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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851302">The Unspoken Word</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otter_Eggs/pseuds/Otter_Eggs'>Otter_Eggs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(eventually) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Toby Smith | Tubbo, Bedrock Bros, Blood and Injury, Dadza, Dream is genuinely abusive, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hypothermia, Mute TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Not real people, Other, Phil Watson Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Phil isn't a bad parent he's just confused, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Philza, Protective Technoblade, Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo &amp; TommyInnit Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Sbi dynamic, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Technoblade and Tommy aren't siblings, Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF, Toby Smith | Tubbo Thinks TommyInnit is Dead, Tommy and Technoblade bonding, Tommy doesn't know Philza, Tommy isn't weak because he now has a disability, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur adopted Tommy as a Brother, Wilbur and Phil are the only genetically related, enemies to friends to found family pog, no romantic relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:34:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otter_Eggs/pseuds/Otter_Eggs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy's voice is a large part of who he is. It's how he expresses himself.  What happens when Dream rips out his vocal cords and renders him mute? A story of recovery and discovering who you are in a world where everyone is against you.</p><p>Tommy leaves exile and ends up with Techno, but expanded upon with Tommy struggling to deal with his trauma and the loss of his voice. Follow Tommy as he tries to fix the family he didn't know he had, and one he's not sure he deserves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ranboo &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1005</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Exile is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TOMMY ISNT HELPLESS! I hate when people write these and make him pliant. Tommy's disability doesn't make him weak.</p><p>Also read the tags for some context!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late in the day when he discovered he couldn't talk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He didn't need to speak much, and his throat hurt too much to do so anyway. Exile had caused things to change for him. It was such a stark contrast to what he had come to know. Wilbur was dead, Tubbo abandoned him, and everyone else didn't care. It seemed as if Ranboo and Dream were the only ones who cared about him. He was alone. His normal, admittedly obnoxious, personality was just so unneeded here. Who was he to talk to but the empty wind and open sky? He sometimes forgot to speak even to them. He placed his hand to his throat, feeling the soft indentation that the scar left on his skin. He opened his mouth and shut it again, a wheeze leaving his mouth. His face scrunched. He leaned against the pole in the middle of his tent. The cool ground beneath him stealing the heat from his body. He leans his head back against the pole and closes his eyes. So he was right, it wouldn’t heal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His emotions feel muted, he can't bring himself to feel anything about this. He doesn't feel the choking pain he felt when he saw Wilbur was murdered by someone he didn't know, someone who claimed to be his brother's father. </span>
  <em>
    <span><strike>Wilbur would have told him, wouldn't he</strike>?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He doesn't feel the rising anxiety he had felt when Technoblade had aimed his crossbow at Tubbo’s face. </span>
  <em>
    <span><strike>He had trusted him</strike>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The confusion of Ghostbur appearing and the overwhelming sadness <strike><em>because </em></strike></span>
  <em>
    <span><strike><em>it wasn't his brother</em></strike>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It just feels like this is how it has always been and how it always will be. Maybe that was true, he wasn't completely sure. What could he be sure of now? Food, for one. Dream visiting, Ranboo’s scrawls in the book. The rise and fall of the day. There wasn't much to be sure of anymore. There was no need to be upset about the way things will be from now on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What use does speaking have in a world of silence?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy stood on his feet, his one wrapped foot at a lower level than his clothed one. He wavers as he stands, quickly becoming steady on his feet. His stride is uneven as he walks towards the sea. He looked over it, the setting sky casting an orange light over the white water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Against the backdrop of the never ending sky, Tommy feels smaller than he ever has before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy stands watching the sun set until the air grows cold and the sky a dark blue. The stars wink at him in the sky. Tommy wants nothing more than to yell, to scream, to tell the world that he was here. But he couldn't. The numb pain he feels over his loss crescendos. He lets out an airy sob, his hands open to the wind as it whips through his clothes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see you’ve recovered.” He hears behind him. Dream is there, a presence that fits into the oppressive air of exile like the final piece of a puzzle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy opens his mouth to speak, but instead closes it and nods. Dream chuckles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised you caught on so quickly, Tommy.” Dream said, “It’s more like you to keep trying even when it's hopeless.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wind whips past them, and Tommy looks down at his feet. It’s cold. He shivers, bringing his bandaged arms to his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, this must be so hard for you Tommy” Dream said. He sounded concerned, like this really hurts him. Tommy almost believed it did. A friend would be concerned if their friend lost their voice, a friend would want to help their friend. But after the incident Tommy found it hard to believe his friend. What kind of friend would pin him down and put a knife to his throat and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy takes in a breath. Slowly and with a slight tremble. He breaths in, smelling the soft smell of coming rain. His eyes fall shut. He imagines Wilbur is there, squeezing his hands and telling him he’s gonna be okay. Holding him tight like he was a kid again. He turns around. Tommy may be low, but Dream will not see him cry. Tommy is strong. Tommy is a big man, he can do this. With a sense of finality and a heart full of courage, he walks towards his tent. He takes his time opening the flap and ducking behind it to wipe his eyes. Tommy turns back to Dream, giving him one last look before entering Tnret to go to sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_______________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy wakes to the sound of rain atop Tnret and the smell of wet grass. It’d be pleasant to wake to most days. It meant he could run out into the rain, shouting at Dream as he tried to corral him inside. He wouldn't get sick, he was a big man! He would run around, tripping over sticks and rocks and covering himself in mud. Dream would tell him off for getting himself dirty and he’d have to sit in Tnret in his night clothes as his rugged red shirt and cargo pants dried in the entrance to the tent. He would hum along to Cat and read Ranboo’s messages as the day faded. Fiddling with his compass and looking at the faded pictures of a forgotten land.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things had changed since the first months. It had stopped being more like the vacation Ghostbur thought it was and more of a monotonous drudge. Exile felt like the wisps of winter before spring. Cold and distant at the edge of warmth. He was edging at that peak, never to come down. Stuck in winter as everyone he loves moved into the bright sun of summer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The loss of his voice had only exasperated the feeling of entrapment, that everything here was a simulation and the real world continued on without a single thought for him. He could no longer hum along to Cat. He could no longer shout and scream at anything that annoyed or hurt him. He could no longer talk to Henry in the clumsy log building he lived in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed that Dream had finally found the thing that would make Tommy stop fighting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anyone who knew Tommyinnit however, was aware that he was not one to remain docile. Tommy wasn’t a dumb kid. He’d been through war and rebellion, he knew how to plan, and plan he did. Tommy spent the entirety of that rainy spring day planning. He wrote until his fingers ached and his hands were grey with pigment. His chicken scratches lay across the page and he could barely read them as the light faded from the day. He put away his journal, playing with the clasp of the compass as he laid back on his bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream hadn’t come today, meaning he probably wouldn’t come until late tomorrow. It was still raining out. Tommy shifted away from the wall as the damp cold settled across his arm. Dream knew Tommy wouldn’t try to run while it was raining. No rational person would risk hypothermia. Especially with the lack of resources Tommy was allowed. He looked over his meager supplies and then to his log house. He could probably make a simple umbrella and a  satchel. The umbrella to protect him from the rain and the satchel to carry his belongings. If he wrapped the books and papers in leather they should remain dry, right? He could use the leather to make an umbrella and some simple armour. Probably just a chest plate and leggings, hopefully boots. He had at least half a stack from venturing into the plains to get food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy knew he had to be quick, the weather would be a hindrance to his escape as much as it was a gift. He planted his feet on the ground, feeling the ache of an almost healed broken ankle. He stands up, walking to the opening of the tent. He readies himself, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The run to the house is exhilarating and Tommy lets out a wheezing laugh as he walks into the building. Henry moos at him from across the room. He walks over, stumbling a little over his feet as he lets out pained wheezes. He leans on the wall for a moment, catching his breath, before beginning his preparations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn't take him long for his preparations to be complete. It's rough, Tommy knows that. The leather of the armour is dry and the seams are falling apart. He never was the best at crafting armour but the age of the leather didn't seem to help either. The umbrella was good enough, but his pride and joy was the satchel. The seams were good, his sewing steady and the stitches close together. Tommy slings it over his shoulder, piling a few apples and slices of bread in the bag. He slips on the leather boots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>With the umbrella held above his head he leaves the area with a newfound sense of accomplishment. He could do this. He was strong, was he not? If he could get through war and banishment, losing his brother and his best friend, he could get through this. He felt a pang in his heart as he remembered Ghostbur. Hopefully the guy would be able to find him when he left. What's done is done, and he needs to leave. He enters Tnret and pretty much empties the chest into his satchel. He places anything he can't fit into his ender chest and hopes that there will be one where he goes. The faded picture of L’manberg with crumpled edges and fade marks where it was folded is tucked away inside his book. The compass is latched on to the satchel. Tommy stepped into the rain with determination on his face. The rain pounded down on the tent and he could barely see 2 feet in front of him in the falling light of the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was going to be okay.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. How to Avoid a Summer Cold, Catch it in Winter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy decides to explore the north of Logstedshire, and comes across a cabin deep in the Tundra biome.</p><p>Tw for Hypothermia</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun reflects off the snow like it's made out of little pieces of glass. The permafrost of the arctic leaves an untouched sheen of ice over plush snow. The dunes of snow move like billowing waves in the wind. It feels as if beyond the hills there is nothing but open fields and sparse trees stretching on for eternity. He can see everything around him, the dark forest behind him, the endless fields in front of him. Tommy pauses at the edge of the snow turning back to look at the forest. He’s a day's walk from Logstershire, it should take Dream a long while to get here. If he even thinks of coming here. What use would a cold wasteland have to a broken child? Dream was probably scrambling around the Nether with desperation, yelling threats and whispering promises of safe return. Threatening him with harm if he is to return to L’Manberg.</p><p> </p><p>Dream is stupid, Tommy thinks. He’s stupid to think Tommy would go somewhere so blatantly obivous. He’s stupid to belive that Tommy is weak. That he would allow himself to fall so quickly. He smiles up at the blinding sun, feeling the heat on his face. He feels elated as he stares towards the open expanse in front of him. His feet stand at the precipice of the snow. The precipice of new beginnings. There was no turning back now. Tommy would either be free or be chained down by the wretched hands of his abuser, and heaven knows he would fight tooth and nail to prevent the former. He wouldn’t want it any other way, truly. He takes a step forward into the snow.</p><p> </p><p>The way the snow crunches under his boots as he walks is satisfying. It brings him a sort of comfort as well, it will alert him if anyone is following him. The Tundra is safe in a way Tommy hasn’t been able to feel since before L’manberg. L’manberg. An unfinished symphony, a righteous fire burning in the darkness. The brainchild of Wilbur and the cause of his untimely downfall. It was something that if he had the chance Tommy would go back in time to stop. He would holler from the rooftops, yell, cry, anything to have people hear him. He would grab Wilbur by the collar of his stupid coat and scream in his face that it wasnt worth it. He needed to come back to him and the cabin in the deep woods so the rest of them could be safe and happy by the lake. Away from the hands of Dream and his friends and towards a quiet future of adventure.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur had come into his life when he was 6 and Wilbur himself only 16. He had seemed so big back then, a bastion of strength and bravery. Tommy had taken to him quickly, enjoying following the traveller around and listening to his stories. But what had drawn him in the most was his music. He sang of women and love, the colour of the sky when the sun set, wonderful things Tommy still dreamed of. The twangs of his guitar was the lullaby that put him to bed on those long nights before Dream SMP. He missed the sound of Wilbur’s guitar. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur too, had enjoyed his company. It only took a few months for him to declare that Tommy was his brother. At first it had been a ploy to help the two get a room when it stormed and the tavern owner was known to be sympathetic to the plight of families. After that, it had grown into less of a trick and more of a reality. Wilbur was his older brother, his protector, his best friend. Tommy loved to tell and retell the stories Wilbur told him to Tubbo. To try to paint the world with the same beautiful paints Wilbur did for him. Sometimes, when he listened to Ghostbur talk, he felt like that child again. </p><p> </p><p>It still hurt to think about the stories Wilbur never had the chance to tell.</p><p> </p><p>He walks across the dunes, occasionally slipping on the slick ground. His boots hold steady against the wet but the cold seeps in. He shivers. He can't remember ever being this cold. This was an entirely new type of cold. It sinks into his bones, past the thin leather armour and his ripped shirt. Past his socks and his boots. Tommy could pretend all he wanted that it didn't affect him but nothing could stop the shivering that took over his limbs and the cold that rested in his core like a coiled snake. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy for a long while, quickly spotting a large mountain breaking from the rocky earth. It’s huge, and the snowy fog has prevented him from seeing it from afar before. He pauses to look at it, noticing a dip in the mountain range where it is lower. The mountain range seems to span on forever. An almost impenetrable wall separating the other side from the rest of the world. Whatever was on the other side was undoubtedly safer than anything south of him. Dream wouldn’t have expected him to get this far from Logstershire. He would expect Tommy to leave his home, L’manberg, the SMP as a whole so far behind that there was nearly no hope of return. It doesn’t take him long to stand with shaking legs at the base of the mountain. He squints, covering his face from the sun to his west to see over the mountain. There’s something on the edge of his view.</p><p> </p><p>There! Tommy sees smoke rising above the mountain. It's faint, barely there in the cold sky. It very well could be an illusion brought on by dehydration but it’s still hope. Hopefully whoever lives on the other side of the mountain range would take him in. He was a kid, and an obviously hurt one at that. Tommy knows that he wouldn’t be able to stay there forever, no, he isn’t even sure he would even stop. The hope that someone was out there was enough to spur him on.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy checks his inventory, cursing Dream for exploding his stuff everyday. A nearly broken wooden sword is his only possible form of leverage to climb the slope. He knows that without something to catch him as he falls he’ll be a goner. He fishes out some leather and rips it into strips. With shaking hands he ties them into a thin rope. Tommy ties a knot at the end of the sword, and the other to his belt loop. It’s not very secure, and probably wouldn’t save him if he falls, but it’s enough to make him feel safe.</p><p> </p><p>Hope is something Tommy has learned can mean the difference of life or death. It’s something he holds on tight to as he pushes the sword into the snow and pulls himself up inch by inch up the mountain. It hurts. His muscles ache and scream and his fingers are numb from the cold. The wet melted snow sinks past his leather leggings and past the knees of his cargo pants. His shivering intensifies but he pushes on despite it. Tommy needs to be strong. He is strong. He needs to live the life Wilbur would have wanted him to. His fingers dig into the cold stones and the sword feels like it will snap at any moment.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy pulls himself to the top and has to blink away snow blindness as he gazes over the landscape. The snow is pink in the setting sun. It’s one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. The view is incredible from up there, and as he turns around he can see the forest just barely on the horizon. He turns back, looking over the never ending snowy plains. There, in the middle of the frozen plains is a house surrounded by well kept farms and bordered on one side by a river. A horse clad in diamond armour stands in a stable. It’s clearly lived-in land, boot prints decorating the snow like pen marks on paper. It could either be Tommy’s salvation or his ruination. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy smiles, god he smiles. His face hurts from smiling. He’s overwhelmed by the incredible joy he feels, looking at that house. Tommy goes to let out a triumphant cry, overjoyed at his accomplishment. He’s stopped short and his hand shoots to his throat. Right. The twinges of pain feel like bugs across his skin. He can’t do that anymore.  His joy fades as quick as the wind that flies past him on that summit. Like it was something that could be taken from him like the items he placed in the hole everyday. The dark char scaring the ground like a wound in the earth. As he remembers that dark hole in the ground he thinks of the other scar that lay on his throat, marking the last and most important thing Dream had taken from him.</p><p> </p><p>It was almost unconscious, how little he had thought of talking on the way there. As if his body and mind knew before he really did that this was permanent. That this was forever. Tommy was never going to speak again. It hurt a lot. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to curl up and die here in the mountains. To never be heard from again in a more literal sense than he would be now. </p><p> </p><p>But that wouldn’t make Wilbur proud. </p><p> </p><p>He climbs down the mountain with gritted teeth and shaking hands. Tommy is much less energetic than he was on the way up. He knows that if he doesn’t get down and near the house before sun sets he’s going to be attacked by mobs. He doesn’t want to lose his final life to a zombie. That would be pathetic after all he’s gone through. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy sticks the sword into the snow a final time before it snaps into shards. It’s unexpected. He should have been paying better attention to the sword's durability. Tommy lets out a breathy shriek and falls backwards. He’s left to tumble down the last bit of the mountain. Mercifully, it’s only about 2 meters. He lands on his back in the snow. He lets out a rough noise as the wind is knocked out of him. He stares up at the fading light in the sky and takes a deep breath. The sky seems so far away from down here. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy pushes himself to his feet with a groan, his armour officially soaked through now. His fingers tremble and he is quick to dust the snow off and shove them in his armpits to try to keep them warm. He limps towards the house, his bones aching with every step. The walk isn’t even 10 meters but it feels longer than the trek up the mountain. His feet drag in the kicked up, loose snow. Tommy’s feet are wet and ice is forming on the tips of his hair. He lets out a sigh of relief as he walks up the snow-covered porch. It feels like the gates to heaven, an oasis in a desert where he’s been for days, it feels like returning home. Though he knows he won’t stay here long.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy knocks on the door. It makes a deep, echoing sound. The wood for the door is thick spruce and banded together with carefully handcrafted iron decals. The nails are square and set equal distances apart. It’s detailed, crafted by someone who intends to stay there for a long while. The lights in the house are on, and the heat of the house seems to radiate like a beacon. If he isn't allowed in, maybe Tommy could sleep under the porch or with his back to the chimney. </p><p> </p><p>The door opens quickly, and Tommy looks up quickly to meet the eyes of-</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy?” Technoblade said, his hooves linger on the doorknob as if he wants to shut it in his face. Tommy thinks that would be justified. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy doesn’t know how to respond, he bites his lip. He looks up at Technoblade with pleading eyes as he trembles in the cold. He doesn't know how to communicate without his voice. He takes a shaky breath, he can’t take too long. He doesn't want this door of opportunity to close on him. Tommy points to his throat and presses a finger to his lips. He doesn't know how else to communicate his lack of a voice. He thinks it's a pretty clear gesture, but Techno looks down at him confused. </p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, are you okay?” He asks, Techno is concerned. His face all scrunched in a way he hadn't seen since the start of Pogtopia. Since before Wilbur’s betrayal and Tubbos first life lost. He wants to believe the man cares, as foolish as that thought was. He wants Techno to be there for him, to maybe <em> maybe </em>have someone on his side again. Someone who won't hurt him, despite their complicated past. Tommy desperately shakes his head no. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck it. It’s cold out, I'll let you stay for tonight.” Techno sighs, Stepping aside to let Tommy into the house. Tommy wants to cry with relief. He walks in, taking off his leather armour and looking back to Techno. Techno gestures for him to continue.</p><p> </p><p>The house is medium sized, with chests neatly placed in convenient places. He walks into the living room. It's cluttered, clearly lived in. Books sit in stacks on a full to the brim bookcase and a few lay on the coffee table. There is fabric everywhere, animal pelts stacked high by the side. A large, half sewn cloak lays across one of the chairs. It's blue, and reminds Tommy of a time before Dream SMP. A time of countries and empires played out in a far off land to the east. An enderman sits in the other armchair. Its eyes are closed, and Tommy stares at it bewildered. </p><p> </p><p>“That's Edward. He’s my roommate. He won't hurt you.” Technoblade grunts. He saunters into the living room, tapping the enderman on the shoulder and whispering something to him once he awakes. The enderman nods, and looks at Tommy. Tommy waves at him hesitantly, not making eye contact. Techno raises a brow at that, as If he had expected a different reaction. It’s now that he realizes how drastically he had changed since their last encounter. The enderman makes a Vwhumping sound and closes his eyes again. Content to sleep by the fire, book on his lap.</p><p> </p><p>Techno picks up the materials draped over the chair. He carries it to the kitchen and it flumps down with the sound of heavy fabric. He walks down the entrance hall and pulls out a blanket, placing it on the chair. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not much, but it's a warm place to sleep. I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Leave your stuff to dry out in front of the fire. We’ll talk in the morning.” Techno says. “No sense in talkin’ if you’re too cold n’ tired to respond.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy almost laughs, Techno still doesn’t realize that Tommy was broken. He didn't realize that Tommy would never be able to talk to him again. He realized then that it might make Techno happy, he would no longer annoy him or interrupt his reading. At least this would benefit someone. He watched with tired eyes as Techno climbed the ladder, and he turned to the fire. Placing his armour and shoes by the fire and taking off his satchel. He takes out his journal, ripping out a piece of paper with a wince. He places it down and writes a quick thank you message. He promises to explain what had been happening over the course of his exile, and what had happened to him. Tommy places it at the foot of the stairs. He climbs into the chair, and it's the most comfortable thing he's ever felt. It’s plush and soft, he feels like he's sinking into clouds. He barely gets the blanket over his body and his head to the back of the seat before he crashes into a deep, well deserved, sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Across the snowy tundra plains and past a deep blue ocean, in a place where the ground has holes bigger than the country itself, a boy mourns the death of his best friend.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Killing Your Son is Called Filicide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy and Techno talk. Tommy checks in with Ranboo. Philza Minecraft is a confused father of one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>3k words holy shit!!! </p><p>Sorry Philza is a bit of a dick at first in this chapter dw he gets better</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy woke up feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. His arms and legs ached and his fingers and toes felt as if someone had burnt them and he’d forgotten to treat them. He let out a soft sound from his chest, bringing his hand to his throat. It throbbed with pain. The skin around the wound was peeling slightly and if Tommy could guess, it would be red and swollen. Tommy hoped Techno would be able to help him treat it properly. It was an unfortunate reality that Dream had probably not treated it—or worse, had treated it wrong. Undoubtedly to have better control over the teen by holding medical supplies over his head as a prize if he obeyed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The waning warmth of the fire dusted his face and the thick blanket held the heat to his skin. The heat left his skin quickly and left him nearly shivering as he removed it from his aching body. He let out an airy sigh. Tommy brought his body to face the front of the chair, placing his bandaged-wrapped feet on the ground with a hiss of pain. He brought one up to look at it, frowning at the blisters that had formed on high-contact parts of his foot. He knew better than to pop them. Tommy hoped that a regen potion would heal them up so he could continue northwards, or possibly follow the mountain or rivers towards the ocean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy paused, bringing his foot back down and looking out the window. Where </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>he want to go? He could follow the rivers, hoping to find an ocean and a forest so he could travel from the continent. Put an even larger distance between him and Dream, and in turn Tubbo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t bring himself to that. Despite the betrayal he felt deep in his core over exile, he still loved Tubbo. Tubbo was his best friend, the other half of the duo, and he couldn’t just leave him to Dream. There were also the disks. Did he want to continue to pursue them? Or were they worthless, a common item that drove him to do things he shouldn’t. To hurt people he loved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The loud clunking of hooves on wood brought him out of his daydreaming. He looked up, watching as Techno sauntered into the kitchen. He was wearing a thick, wooly house coat and a pair of flowing pants. His long hair was undone and draped down his back in tangles. Tommy watched him pass with curious eyes. Tommy leaned forward and grabbed his book, standing on his heels as to not agitate his blisters or aching feet. He scampers after Techno, book and pen in hand. Techno is getting ready to make food, flitting and puttering about. He takes out a skillet and a basket full of eggs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are eggs okay?” Techno asks, turning to Tommy. He nods, and Techno turns back to the stove. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pan sizzles as he drops butter into the pan, and Tommy wonders if he made it himself or if he’d bought it from the nearby village. The eggs are whisked in a bowl and dumped into the pan, bubbling and swirling in the heat. Tommy finds himself mesmerized by the smell, the melting butter and cooking eggs takes him back to his childhood. Before the war, when it was just him and Wilbur in the wilds of the world. Eating whatever they could find and nabbing things from villages. Butter was a luxury and Tommy’s mouth watered at the thought of having a meal made with it again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy turns from techno, walking towards the small table in the corner of the room. It is made for 3, with delicate carvings on the side and a smooth top. It’s by the window. Snow sits on the window ledge and it gives him a wonderful view of the tundra. He sinks into a chair at the table, and opens his book. The paper is slightly damp on the edges but the book is otherwise fine. He breathes a sigh of relief and starts writing down a small note explaining what had happened in the last few months. It’s barely a summary, filling up half the page and only explaining the last bit of his exile. Tommy wanted to seem brave to Techno. He doesn't want to bring up the times he stood at the edge of a ledge that crossed a lava pool. Looking at the way the lava bubbled and wondering how quick it would be. Would he appear as a ghost like Wilbur had? Or would he fade into the unknown. Never to be seen again and quickly forgotten by all but a few. He didn't know, he still didn't know. It was what stopped him then and part of what pushed him on now. He didn't want to know what awaited him. Was he bad enough to go to a bad afterlife? He didn't know. Tommy didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A plate is placed in front of him and a fork and knife is clattered to rest by his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you done writing in your diary?” Techno’s tone is its usual monotone drawl but there is an air of mischief in the way he speaks. Tommy gives him a quick smile before placing the book down open on the table and sliding it towards him. Techno picks it up hesitantly, his hooves resting awkwardly on the small book. His face remains as he reads, his eyes occasionally flicking up to Tommy. He closes the book and looks up at Tommy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream cut out your vocal cords.” Tommy nods. Techno sighs, as if he hadn’t fully belived what Tommy wrote.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”That’s rough buddy.” He says, “Is it healing properly?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno’s voice is gruff and as emotionless as ever, Tommy finds comfort in it. He shakes his head no, and tilts his head to the side to show Techno the swollen, scarring spot. Techno draws in air through his teeth. He reaches forward and gently moves Tommy’s head to the other side. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to think about how close it felt to the harsh hand Dream used when he checked on the injury. But this was Techno and his touch wasn’t a jerking movement that tore at the healing scar or a firm grip on his chin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sheesh, he really did a number on you. A bandage with a bit of healing pot on it should help it heal but it’ll probably scar over. I don’t think anything will get your voice back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy knew he’d never speak again, intrinsically he knew the damage was too great to repair. It hurt though, to hear it from someone he trusted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did he trust Techno? He wasn’t sure. Techno had hurt Tubbo, he’d blown up L’Manberg. But did it really matter now? They were so far away from L’Manberg, from everything. The past shouldn’t follow them into the tundra, they’d both come here for new beginnings right? An escape from the confines of the government and those who aided it. Tommy didn’t want to believe Dream was acting on Tubbo’s command but he was his warden, the one who had kept him on that wretched corner of the server for months. How different was he from Techno in this moment? When you forgot their past? It didn’t seem they were all that different at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dug into his eggs eagerly, quickly finishing the plate. Techno ate his own food quietly. If Tommy was sloppy or rude Techno didn’t react. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long has it been since you last had a good meal?” Techno asked. Tommy shrugged. Techno sighed. “We’re gonna have to get you on a diet plan, if you eat too much too soon you’ll get sick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned. He grabbed his book, opening it to a fresh page and scribbling a short message out. He slid the book over to </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long am I going to allow you to stay?” Techno read, “Tommy, if you want to leave that’s fine with me, but I think Phil would kill me if I let you go without helping you out first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t know who Phil was. He nodded along though, thankful that Techno would help him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of Phil, he’s coming over later tonight. I should go take care of the farm before he comes over. Do you mind washing the dishes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy wasn’t sure how he felt about meeting someone new. What if they were a friend of Dream? He pushed his worries aside and gave Techno a thumbs up. He picked up the dishes, hovering his hand above the pan to ensure it was cool enough to wash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make sure not to use soap on the pan! It’s cast iron.” Techno yelled from by the door. Tommy nodded. The menial task gave him time to relax. He didn’t need to focus on thinking, all he needed to do was scrub.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After 15 minutes of cleaning, he plops down on the couch. He takes the time to organize his belongings. In a moment of pure realization and a spike of anxiety he realizes he has probably left Ranboo in a bad place. Dream was probably spouting lies in order to find him. He should check in, at the very least. He took out his back-and-forty book and opened it to the latest page. Ranboo’s neat handwriting was messy and slanted in the book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Are you alright???’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Tommy please respond. Dream’s saying you’re dead. I can’t believe him. I won’t. I was awake all night, I didn’t see a death message on my communicator. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell me you’re okay.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Tommy please, I can’t lose my best friend.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He places his pen on the paper and writes back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I’m okay, I’m sorry for not getting back to you. I’m staying with a friend for a bit. Don’t tell Dream where I am.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, he closes the book. Tommy doesn’t need to elaborate further. Ranboo wouldn’t trust Techno, and Tommy couldn’t blame him. He had only met the man as he tore through L’Manberg’s forces like a bullet through paper. Tommy placed the book in his satchel and pulls out his journal. He writes for a long time. He writes until his hand aches. Tommy places the book on the coffee table and yawns. Maybe it was time to sleep. Techno said someone would be over soon, but he’d be back inside by the time the Phil guy came. No need to worry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy wakes to the sound of the door opening. He looks up, expecting to see a disheveled Techno come in with dirt on his face. He always got way too into farming for his own good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, he is flung back 2 months to a war fought in a crater. Smoke flies around him and pieces of fabric billow in the wind. The tumbling rocks and half torn apart buildings are a shadow of their former selves. He takes in a choking breath. The man stands with a diamond sword in hand, blood coating it. The blood of his brother. It slips off the blade and leaves no trace of his brother. His brother is slumped over on the ground, his eyes glassy and open wide. Tommy takes in a choked breath as the man turns his eyes to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinks. And he’s in Techno’s house again. The man is standing, staring at him almost as wide eyed as he is. Time seemed to stop as he looks into the eyes of his brothers killer. Tommy doesn’t dare move as the man approaches. His sword is held in front of him. His stance is of a hardened warrior, Tommy is barefoot and curled in on himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you and why are you in Techno’s house.” His voice is stern. Not monotone like Techno but somehow more intimidating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man moves closer. Tommy doesn’t know what to do. With trembling, slow hands he reaches for his pen and paper. He lets out a noiseless shriek as the man cuts him off, the sword at his hands now. He scrambles back on the couch. He feels his chest constrict and he plants his hands on the couch behind him. His breathing is shallow and quick and he can feel sweat bead on his forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s going to die like Wilbur did. No one’s going to know either. Would Techno care enough to tell the others if he knew that he didn’t know Phil? Or would he just get thrown into a hole in the mountains, buried under the permafrost. No one would know where he died, he would never be found.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t want his body to buried in the cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With frantic movements he points to his throat. He puts a finger to his mouth in a gesture of quiet. He points to the paper. How can he communicate that he can’t answer him verbally? Tommy feels his eyes become wet with frustration. He blinks the tears away. Wilbur hadn’t cried in the face of death and neither would he. Tommy pushes down his panic and grabs for the book and the pen. The man flares at him. It’s clear he’s confused by Tommy’s desperate actions. He doesn’t lower his sword.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Techno is letting me stay here.’ He writes, turning it to face the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why should I believe you? Where’s Techno?” He says. Tommy feels fear wrap around his heart. White hot fury fills him and anger he hasn’t felt since before exile fills him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I don’t talk to murderers, bitch.’ He writes, glaring at the man. It has less bite than he’d like. He wants to scream, to yell it in his face. He wants to date the man to stab him. Dare him to kill him like he did his brother. But he can’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What gives you the right to call me a murderer.” The man’s anger is stoic. His sword comes to rest on the scar Dream had given him. Tommy scrabbles off the couch, gripping his book with white knuckles. He runs to the front door and hears the man follow close behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come back here you little shit.” Tommy’s hand is about to grab the doorknob when the door is flung open and he lands headfirst into Techno’s chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno lets out a soft ‘oof’ sound and Tommy scrambles to huddle behind the larger man. His bare feet sink into the snow and he hisses in pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy?” Techno says, turning. “It’s just Phil. I told you he was coming tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy doesn’t want to believe that the murderer could be a friend of Technos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Phil,” he says, turning to the harried man in the entrance way. His hair is disheveled and his wings spread wide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who is that?” Phil asks. Tommy notices how different his tone is with Techno.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Phil isn’t Tommy your son?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Techno I don’t know what the hell he told you, but Wilbur is my only son.” Techno gives Phil a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’re so old you’re forgetting who you’re related to. Phil, Wilbur told me to my face that Tommy was his brother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil stands there in stunned silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no Wilbur is my only son. I know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy?” Techno turns to him, Tommy huffs and points to his neck. “Oh, right. I’ll give you a sec to write it out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s wrong with him, what’s wrong is the mindset of the fucker who ripped out his throat. Tommy’s fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy barely pays attention as he writes out his story. His summary is short and covers very little of his life. But it covers enough. He writes out how he came to know Wilbur, how he came to love the man who would become his older brother. How they had stood together against all odds only to have one of their duo ripped from them too soon. He hands Phil the book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy watches as his face morphs as he reads. He doesn’t look as angry anymore. Techno gently guides Tommy inside, closing the door behind him. He ushers him to sit down in a chair and drapes a blanket over him. Techno pats Tommy on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give him some time to think Tommy, it’s going to be okay.” Tommy really hopes that’s true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a beat, Phil hands Tommy back his book and moves past him to sit in the other chair. Philza sits with one of his wings in front of him and the other tucked behind. He’s smoothing the feathers and gently pruning them. Phil seems so peaceful there, as he thinks, and Tommy wonders how he’d see him if he really was his son. If he too had been comforted by the man's black wings. Would he view Phil as someone who had done what needed to be done? An act of mercy? He didn’t know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno sits at the armchair across from him, his pink hair orange in the light of the fire. The air is dry and the sound of Techno’s hooves against the needle and fabric he’s using to sew his cloak is calming. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose. His eyes are lidded. Tommy fidgets with the blanket in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy,” his head snaps up to look at Techno. “Tommy I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy tilts his head in confusion. Techno laughs, it’s uncomfortable and strained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not completely sure what I’m sorry about. Just- just know that you’re safe here for as long as you want to stay.” He says in a nervous drawl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy looks into Techno’s red eyes, and nods. Techno used to hold a god-like presence to him. He once carried the tide of a war on his shoulders, demanding blood and showing no mercy. Once, he was just a tool in a giant war to secure freedom. Now he saw Techno. A man who cared more than you’d think. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not gonna be easy. I can’t guarantee that, only you can. But I know you can get through this Tommy. You’re stronger than you look.” Tommy tossed a sock at Techno’s head. He laughed, dodging it easily. Tommy smiles, a breathy wheeze leaves his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry too kiddo,” Phil says. He sounds genuine, but Tommy’s playful mood falls away quickly. Tommy turns his head to look at him. He’s sitting with his wings around him like a protective wall. Phil fiddles with a feather as if he’s considering what he’s about to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m older than I look.” Techno laughs at this, mumbling something about Phil being an old man. Phil shoots him a glare, batting him with the tip of his wing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reviving someone and what that entails is something I never really had any interest in. Now however, I think we have a mutual interest in that.” Tommy nods. Phil takes a deep breath and continues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if it’s possible. We very well could never revive him. But we can try.” He looks up into Tommy’s eyes. “Wilbur considered you his brother. I know nothing can replace him, but I want to get to know you better. If Wilbur thought of you as a brother, I should at least try to consider you a friend. Let me get to know you Tommy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy feels like he’s being crushed. He turns over what Phil said in his brain. He looks down at his hands, taking a deep breath. He plays with the fabric in his hands and nods. Despite his pain and the fear Phil causes him, he knows he can’t ignore his relationship with Wilbur. They share a mutual bond with a man who’s legacy was left unfinished. Not by his death, but by the destruction caused by both him and those who stood against him. Maybe together they can bring him back to finish his song.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Devil, He’s a Ramblin’ Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ranboo just wants to vibe with their cat and talk to Tommy, why did he get dragged into an assassination attempt? Tubbo isn't who he used to be, and he feels he isn't fit to lead after he thinks Tommy died due to his actions. Quackity is power hungry. Fundy struggles with the ghost of his dead father, Philza struggles with being too fucking cool.</p><p> </p><p>TW Tubbo thinks Tommy committed Su3s1de.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG WHAT</p><p>I had an idea for this and it went brr. you now have a 5k word chapter to read uwu</p><p> </p><p>all from Ranboos POV and my take on the events of the Butcher execution. Philza is so, so fucking cryptic here man its so fun. Chat is so fun to write now that we are crows.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nature is very good at fixing mans mistakes. Vines wound their way up stone ruins and flowers bloomed between pieces of fallen wood. It'd only been a few months since the destruction of L’Manberg. The smaller craters had been filled in the rebuilding process. Grass had overtaken the loose dirt, flowers bloomed in a sea of green, sprouting, grass. Water flowed down rivers that used to continue down to the sea. Disrupted by the destruction, they passed by houses and swirled into the giant crater in the centre of the town. The largest crater was filled with water. It was a bloated scar in the land reminding everyone of what they had lost.  The drainage pipes hastily installed by Tubbo and a few others let the slowly rising water out and to the ocean. The crater was a visual reminder of their failure, even in his clouded and forgetful mind he knew that nothing would make L’Manberg feel the same again. The final control room was obscured by a thin curtain. No one had dared enter. Not since Wilbur’s body had been carried out by the winged man with shaking hands and teary eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Ranboo sat on the top of a hill, Enderchest sat in their lap as they wrote. She purred and bumped their claws with the top of her head. Ranboo chirped, letting go of their book to pet the cat. Her purring grew louder, and Ranboo smiled. The cool spring breeze dusted their face. The smell of grass and rain on the horizon, clouds in the distance, summer came like a warm hug. Life was okay. </p><p> </p><p>He placed his pen back on the paper, writing a quick good morning message to Tommy. It had taken a lot to convince him that they genuinely cared about him. That they weren’t just talking to Tommy out of pity. They weren’t. Tommy was funny, charismatic, and fun to talk to. Ranboo felt like a teenager again when he wrote to Tommy, more than he’d felt since he joined the server.</p><p> </p><p>‘Good morning Ranboo. I have a lot to tell you about. I’m safe! No need to worry. I’m probably going to stay where I am for a bit. No one can find me here. Turns out the guy who killed Wilbur was his dad. I can’t believe Wilbur never told me. The guy’s name is Phil, he’s trying to get to know me or some weird bullshit like that. I don’t trust him. But if my friend.’ Friend was crossed out. ‘Roommate trusts him not to kill me at the very least, I guess I should too.’</p><p> </p><p>Ranboo smiled, a sort of tight lipped smile that only happens when you know you shouldn’t laugh but you want to. Tommy’s tone seemed to be a lot more confident than when they last wrote. He picks up the pen to write back, adjusting the tiny thing in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>‘Yikes, at least he’s being nice? I’m glad you’re doing okay. Things in L’Manberg have been pretty tense lately. With you in exile and Dream putting pressure on us it’s been really chaotic. Enderchest is doing well though!’ He wrote back. Almost immediately, messy scribbles materialized in a response.</p><p> </p><p>‘I hope everything turns out okay.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Thanks Tommy, good luck.’</p><p> </p><p>He gently closed the book, shooing Enderchest off his lap so he could stand up. The clouds were much closer now. They were big, dark and foreboding against the sky as they approached with the fall of the sun. Ranboo sighed. He placed down his enderchest and retrieved an umbrella. He hoped it wouldn’t start raining before he made it home. </p><p> </p><p>The clouds, as it turned out, moved faster than he did. In the darkness of the falling day he opened his umbrella. The dyed-black leather held tightly against the wooden poles to which they were fixed. He hummed softly, hoping Enderchest had made it home. It was only a drizzle but getting wet could make her cold. He had reached the walkway to his house when he heard a voice behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ranboo! Big man!” Ranboo turned, seeing Tubbo in the distance. Fundy and Quackity trailed after him. They wore aprons over their normal clothes, and he could barely make reddish brown stains that stood out on the white fabric. Ranboo hoped it wasn’t blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello Tubbo,” He said.</p><p> </p><p>“We need some help with something quickly, do you mind coming with us?” </p><p> </p><p>“Uh sure, what do you need?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell you while we walk. Here.” Tubbo passed Ranboo a long apron. It would be incredibly small on Ranboo. Ranboo chuckled, slipping it on. It only reached just above his knees where it came to the ankles of the others.</p><p> </p><p>“What are we doing?” He questioned. The rain was coming down harder now. It hit his umbrella in a soft drumming sound.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re going to interrogate Philza. He’s been making some suspicious movements out of L’Manberg recently and we think he’s helping Technoblade.”</p><p> </p><p>Who was Technoblade? Vague memories of a pig man clothed in red and gold filled his mind. Right. Technobalde was a criminal, wasn't he? He remembered, hazily, seeing the wanted posters around the town. What had he done again? Something to do with the destruction of L’Manberg. He must have been bad if they were after him, right? </p><p> </p><p>“Alright. What do you need me for?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll see.” Tubbo said. Ranboo felt unease build in his body as he followed the group down the road. </p><p> </p><p>Philza’s house sat on a tiny hill, and was beautifully made. Logs on the corners provided support for the two story building and cobble lined the base. It was very clearly made with expert hands. Ranboo looked through the window as they approached, seeing chests lining the house and tiny framed pictures hanging from the walls. It looked very quaint. Not at all like the house of someone who would be helping a violent criminal. A redstone doorbell was hooked up to a button next to the front door. Fundy reached forward and rang the bell. Once. Twice. Too many times. The sound of the bell ringing was grating.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus christ, I’m coming!” Philza sounded understandably frustrated. Ranboo took note of his accent, maybe he came from the same area as Tubbo and Tommy?</p><p> </p><p>The tall man wrenched open the door. He was leaning on a dark oak cane, dressed in draping green robes and adorned in jewelry. His hair was medium length and blonde. Large black wings were tucked behind him, harshly bound together with netherite chains that glowed purple. A few crows flitted around him, and at that moment Ranboo took notice of the hundreds of birds roosting in the trees and on the houses around them. He felt his breath catch in his throat. They were hidden in the shadows, watching them. Why was he the only one noticing this? Was it normal? </p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” Philza said. His tone was clipped but neutral. He looked them over, his face scrunching when he saw the aprons. “What’s with the get ups?”</p><p> </p><p>“We were just cooking.” Quackity said. Philza sighed, clearly sceptical. He moved to the side and gestured to the inside of the house with clawed fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Come in, it’s raining out. That won’t do you any good, seeing as it’s not washing the blood off you,” Philza shut the door behind them. “What do you need this late in the evening?”</p><p> </p><p>“We have a simple request, Philza. Where’s Technoblade.” Quackity said. Philza rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Why should I tell you if I knew?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t ask any questions Philza. Tell us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t think I should ask any questions?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s for the good of L’Manberg, and by request of The President. We demand you to tell us where Technoblade is.” Quackity said. The crows outside began to caw. Philza wrapped his hand around the top of his cane and glared at them.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s best if you tell us.” Tubbo said.</p><p> </p><p>“Just tell us where he is. We need to bring justice to the citizens of this country. You know what he did.” Quackity said.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going to tell you. Techno’s changed, he’s not the same person you knew.” The group exploded into loud talking, overlapping and clearly angry at the old man. The crows got louder.</p><p> </p><p>“He placed <em>withers </em>where you're standing right now Philza,” Tubbo said. “He blew up <em>everything.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Ranboo bit his lip. He could only watch on as the group yelled at Phil and demanded he tell them. He stood at the back, his umbrella folded and his back against the wall. They let out a soft, nervous <em>vwhoop whop. </em>Creeping anxiety filled him as he stood on the sidelines and a realization dawned on them. If Phil knew Technoblade then they knew who Tommy’s roommate was. How could Tommy stomach living with Technoblade of all people? After what he’d presumably done? The more they thought about it the more anxious they got for their friends' life. Tommy must have his reasons. Technoblade had helped Pogtopia hadn't he? Maybe he was the last person Tommy could trust. That had to be it. </p><p> </p><p>“We tried to do this the easy way. If you’re not gonna help us, we’re going to have to do it the hard way.” Quackity said.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the hard way?” Ranboo could see the subtle flick of Philzas hand as he scanned his inventory, placing armour in an easy to access place.</p><p> </p><p>“Fellas, start going through his chests.”</p><p> </p><p>Ranboo wasn’t sure what to think as they started trashing the old man’s house. They flipped over the table and smashed the windows. They tipped his plants over. Ranboo watched in horror as a picture frame fell from the wall and smashed in a cascade of glass. Unwilling to meet the scrutiny of the rest of the group he ducked under a small outcrop and pretended to check the lectern. He heard the sounds of rummaging through chests.</p><p> </p><p>“Guys. Look what I found!” Tubbo said. Ranboo looked over, seeing the glint of an enchanted compass. “It’s called Techno’s compass, wonder where this will lead.”</p><p> </p><p>How could Philza forget about something as important as that in an open, easy to access chest? He should have known the compass would find its way into enemy hands if he left it in such an obvious place. </p><p> </p><p>“It- it takes you to a potato farm.” Philza said. He gripped his cane so hard his knuckles were white.</p><p> </p><p>“This could be considered treason, Philza.” Quackity said.</p><p> </p><p>“He should be punished for it.” Fundy spoke up from the back. Philza looked at him astonished for a moment before blinking it away.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not my grandson, not after this, Fundy.” Fundy seemed to falter but Tubbo stepped in before he could say anything.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re under house arrest for treason Phil.” Tubbo said. Phil looked outraged. The crows outside crescendoed into loud screeching that the rest of the group finally <em>finally </em>noticed.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell is that?” Quackity said. </p><p> </p><p>All three of them turned to look out the front window to see a murder of crows circling the house with a wide berth. Ranboo watched as a crow flew away in the chaos. The first that had left since he got there. Could it be carrying a message? Should he tell the rest? He looked back at the group opening his mouth to tell them. He stopped, Philza was watching him with a clenched jaw. He remembered Tommy, and looked away. He felt Philza’s eyes on him, burning into his back like water. He didn’t turn around. The group warly eyes the crows, stepping out of the broken home. They had what they had come for.</p><p> </p><p>The butcher army left for Technoblade’s house immediately. Ranboo had barely enough time to ensure his umbrella was open. There was little talk between them, everyone seemed to be tense and ready to do what needed to be done. What needed to be done? Was it really needed? Ranboo may not know Philza or Technoblade but he did trust Tommy. If Tommy trusted Techno then he would too. He looked back at the mass of birds circling, circling, and hoped they hadn’t messed up. </p><p> </p><p>The journey seemed to take forever and not long enough at the same time. Ranboo hadn’t been this far before. Wait, did he even remember the last time he left L’Manberg? He would have to check his memory book later. Ranboos nerves spiked when the group reached the ocean. If he fell, he would probably die. Water was dangerous and he had yet to apply any water sealing enchantments to his armour. He stepped into the boat, feeling his heart lurch as it rocked. </p><p> </p><p>“I can row, if you’d like.” Tubbo spoke up behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’d be nice,” he said “Thanks Tubbo.”</p><p> </p><p>The ride was peaceful. Ranboos' fear faded when he realized how steady Tubbo kept the boat when he rowed. Maybe it was just for him, but that didn’t change how it soothes his anxiety. He watched as the stars blinked in the sky, listening to the sound of the water as the small rowboats glided through the water. He sat with his arms folded in his lap. He looked up at Tubbo, and gave him a tight lipped smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for coming with us Ranboo.” Tubbo said.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no problem.” Ranboo responded. They sank into a comfortable silence until the boats bumped into the rocky shore. </p><p> </p><p>The land they had arrived at was rocky. The large stones lining the shore were much different than the sandy beaches around L’Manberg. It was cold. Almost unbearably so. Snow covered the ground and rose as you left the shore line. There were few trees, the land instead spotted with sharp, jutting rocks with what appeared to be iron ore exposed. It was an open expanse that sloped upward, meeting a towering mountain. God, Ranboo didn't want to scale that. </p><p> </p><p>“Well this is depressing.” Tubbo said, looking over the landscape. His goat ears twitched in annoyance. </p><p> </p><p>“We should have brought fuckin horses.” Quackity mumbled. The group trudged forward through the snow with much less rightious energy than when they left L’manberg.</p><p> </p><p>Scaling the mountain wasn't that hard, despite their lack of equipment. The cold stung their cheeks and the wet, melting snow burned their feet. Ranboo looked up at the rest of the group. They continued to move up, leaving him and his burning hands in the dust. Their height made it uncomfortable to move like this, and their allergy to water made touching the snow debilitating. He turned to look down, and let out a soft gasp.</p><p> </p><p>Phil was staring wide eyed like an owl below him, not even 10 feet below. His cloak billowed in the wind and he stood completely still. His blue eyes gazed up into Ranboo’s and he had never felt so afraid. After a moment, he realized that Phil was frozen in fear as well. The creeper head he wore covered the rest of his face and Ranboo couldn’t see his expression. They nodded to Phil, taking a shaky breath before continuing to climb. The least they could do at this point was turn a blind eye. His hands shook violently as he held onto the ledge. He could do this. He could do this. The first step in creating positive change was to act. Hopefully the gesture could be returned someday.</p><p> </p><p>If getting up the mountain was hard, getting down was worse. Ranboo was so gangly it was more of a tumble than anything. He landed in the snow with a soft gurgling noise. Ouch. the melting snow burnt his skin and none of his clothing was dry enough to dry him. He huffed, standing up and walking over to the group.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello!” Ghostbur stood in the snow. Or, hovered above it. He smiled at them with wide and giddy sunken eyes. It was unnerving. “Are you here to visit Techno too? It’s so lonely out here, he really needs to have people over more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Fundy said. He didn’t quite look at Ghostbur when he talked. </p><p> </p><p>“I can take you to him! He’s not far at all.” Ghostbur said.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Fundy’s tone was clipped.</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur cheerfully led them to a cottage surrounded by well-kept farmlands. A horse stood in a stable and a zombie village was strapped to a boat in an outcrop near the porch. Softly glowing lanterns lit up the area, and pelts lay to dry across long Ts stuck in the ground. The house itself was built out of rich spruce and heavy cobble bricks. A chimney puffed out smoke. It looked incredibly homey. What was it with violent criminals and having incredibly aesthetically pleasing homes? Did they have little meetings where they discussed flowers and property values? Ranboo smiled softly at that thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Here we go,” Ghostbur said cheerfully. “You’ll wanna knock, Techno can be very cranky sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah I can imagine he would be.” Quackity said, swinging his axe so it lay ready on his back. Ranboo followed his gaze to the door and was frozen in fear.</p><p> </p><p> A large man stood at the door. He had a large, hulking figure. He stood at least 7 feet tall. Across his form shining nethertie armour lay, reflecting the sun. His sword was half his height and gave Ranboo the worst vibes. He could somehow tell that the sword had seen more battles than he could ever imagine. They were completely and unquestionably fucked.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want.” He said, making his way down the steps with slow and steady steps.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re under arrest Technoblade.” Quackity said, bringing his axe down and holding it with two hands. </p><p> </p><p>“For what? I’m literally not even on your land anymore. I don't think you can legally do anything,” Technoblade laughed. “Plus, I'm retired. Please leave me alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was hoping we could do this the easy way, guess not.” Quackity said. He ran forward and swung his axe. It narrowly missed the tip of Technoblades cape. </p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck are you waiting for? Help me!” He yelled, dodging a swing from Techno’s sword. </p><p> </p><p>Ranboo didn't know how to help. Technoblade tore into the group, fighting tooth and nail in hastily equipped armour. Despite the group having a bit of an element of surprise he fought like ten of them. His pink hair moved in arcs as he dodged the blades of the swords and matched their hits time and time again. It was terrifying. They held their sword in a tight grip as they moved in. Their height was a disadvantage as the piglin hybrid blocked every weak hit they tried to make. It was dizzying, watching as he spun around. His cloak acted as a blinding shield. Ranboo could see why L’Manberg was terrified of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Drop your armour and weapons Techno!” Ranboo hears Quackity yell, and they think he’s bat shit insane. Quackity holds the reins of a large horse clad in diamond armour. Technoblades eyes widen comically.</p><p> </p><p>“Leave him alone, he's innocent!” Technoblade pleaded. </p><p> </p><p>“Again, drop your armour and weapons and nothing will happen.” Technoblade stood still, watching as Quackity moved his blade to the horse's neck.</p><p> </p><p>Technoblade dropped his sword. It hit the snow with a crunch. Tubbo darted forward and snatched it up. Then fell his armour, now coated with snow. He glared at them all, still standing tall and broad without his armour. Ranboo didn't know what to think. He clearly cared for the horse much like Ranboo themselves cared for Enderchest. </p><p> </p><p>“Take the horse Ranboo. Let’s go. We have a trial to get to.” Ranboo gently grabbed the reins of the horse. They brought their claws to his neck, gently patting it. The horse huffed, his hot breath hitting Ranboo’s face.</p><p> </p><p>Wait a moment, Ranboo thought. If Techno was here, where was Tommy? They turned, seeing a stunned Tommy in the window and the door gently closing. Likely so as to not alert the Butcher army. After a moment Philza peeked past Tommy’s shoulder, creeper mask still on. Tommy glared at him. His face softened slightly as Philza whispered something before disappearing deeper into the house. Tommy  turned back to Ranboo.  </p><p> </p><p>‘I trust you. Keep him safe.’ He mouthed, using his lips to convey his words. Not that Ranboo would be able to hear him anyway from behind the window. Ranbooo nodded once, turning to the group and gently leading the horse away. </p><p> </p><p>“Where are we going?” Ghostbur said excitedly. </p><p> </p><p>“L’manberg.” Fundy said, his tone clipped.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! I love L’Manberg. I can't wait to go see it again.” Ghostbur hovered a hand over Fundy’s shoulder. The group ignored him.</p><p> </p><p>The walk to the water was long and tedious. Technoblade did not resist, and for that Ranboo was thankful. Climbing into the boats however, was a different story. Quackity and Fundy sat themselves down in a boat, Tubbo and Technoblade in another. That left himself, the horse, and Ghostbur. He climbed into the boat, watching as Ghostbur flitted at the edge of the shore, watching the water warly.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t touch the water. I’ll melt.” Ghostbur says. Fundy sighs, stepping out of his boat and into the knee-deep water. He pulls out a boat from his inventory and places it down. Ranboo can sympathize with him, he was anxious about crossing the water as well. The horse seemed very calm but that didn’t help the feeling of anxiety when he </p><p> </p><p>“Get in.” Fundy says, sitting down in the boat as well. Ghostbur smiles wide, sitting down in the boat with a hum.</p><p> </p><p>If crossing the land was long, the water voyage was longer. Technoblade kept turning to make sure the horse, Carl, was okay. Tubbo’s boat shook as he did so, and Tubbo seemed to be getting more and more frustrated. Ranboo gently ran their fingers through Carl’s mane every once and awhile, trying to make him feel safe. It must have been a terrifying experience for him. </p><p> </p><p>“He likes it when you scratch behind his ears.” Technoblade mumbled, leaning back in the boat so he could get a tad closer to Ranboo. Quackity hit him on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. Technoblade hissed and leaned forward, hoof reaching to touch where he had been hit.</p><p> </p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Quackity said. “You don't get to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno mumbled something under his breath. Ranboo rubbed Carl behind the ears with one hand, before quickly continuing to paddle. The soft lights of the town could be seen in the distance across the large expanse of water. They were pinpricks right now, but they grew steadily. The sun rose in the distance, casting a brilliant pink and orange light over the water. It was beautiful. Ranboo hoped he could remember this. Maybe not the circumstances as to why he was here but the beauty of travel.</p><p> </p><p>The boat hit the dock with a soft clunking sound. It bobbed in the water under the stres of holding two very large creatures. Carl stepped out of the boat, pushing past Quackity to rest his head on Technoblades shoulder. The horse huffed, and Techno reached back to pat his muzzle. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, we dont have all day.” Fundy said, taking Carl’s lead and taking him down the road. The group plus Technoblade and Ghostbur followed close behind.</p><p> </p><p>They entered the city square, a wooden platform built above a river that led into the crater. Out of the corner of his eye, Ranboo saw the cloth that covered the final control room flutter in the wind. This was a place of war and death, what better place to convict the blood god himself? Philza’s house stood overlooking the area high on the hill. A blue sheep stood on the balcony, as well as a frasled looking Philza. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh! There’s Friend. You should meet him Fundy, I think you’d like them!” Ghostbur said excitedly, floating up to where Philza stood. His face was stony as he looked down at them. The birds were back, roosting in a circle around the area. They sat soundless as if they were waiting in anticipation for something. </p><p> </p><p>“Stand up here Techno.” Quackity said, gesturing to the cage in the center of the podium. Techno scoffed, going to say something before he was shoved forward by the back of Quackity’s axe. A sword to Carl’s neck reminded him to keep his head down. </p><p> </p><p>Techno stood in the cage, glaring at everyone. Ranboo would be too, if someone took Enderchest and threatened to kill her if he didn’t listen to them. Techno turned away from them, looking up at Philza instead. He refused to stand down, and Ranboo could commend him for that. Ranboo barely listened while Tubbo read off the crimes he had commited. He was mesurized by the way the crows had begun to circle around them. Ranboo wasnt sure whether to fear them or not, but they were beautiful birds regardless. </p><p> </p><p>“There is no trial, this is an execution.” Fundy said, gesturing with an open paw to the contraption holding an anvil ontop. </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t just execute me without a trial?” Techno sputtered.</p><p> </p><p>“We can do whatever we want, asshole.” </p><p> </p><p>The next few seconds were so chaotic Ranboo couldnt really conseptualize them. First, came the confused yelling. Then the sound of placing Tnt. Then the smiley face mask staring into his soul across the water, holding him still. It raised its hand to its mouth in a quiet motion.</p><p> </p><p>They let out a soft <em>vwhoop </em>. </p><p> </p><p>The explosion flung Ranboo backwards and for a moment they felt as if they were flying. Their ears rung in the silence after the explosion. Where were they? Did they die? They were jolted back to reality by a hand grabbing onto their apron and wrenching them forward. Ranboo stumbled forward, coughing. He turned, fully prepared to fight. Instead he saw Tubbo. He cradled a broken wrist, looking at his friend with desperate eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You almost hit the water,” Tubbo said. His voice was strained. “Didn't want you to die like that.”</p><p> </p><p>Ranboo went to respond but was cut off by Quackity yelling something incomprehensible and pulling the lever next to the cage. The anvil fell, and Ranboo felt his breath leave his body. He looked away just in time. A sickening crunch filled the area followed by a boom so loud his ears started to ring even louder than before. He looked up, a golden explosion came from the cage. They had fully expected Technoblade to be pulverized. Instead, the man pushed himself up on shaking legs and stumbled off the platform. His face smoked and the tell-tale rotting green of forced regeneration healed over the <em>hole in his chest </em>. Ranboo, for once, was glad he would forget this moment someday.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo scrambled back, taking Ranboo by the sleeve and they <em>ran. </em>Away from the podium, away from the shouting and sounds of weapons being drawn. Past ruined houses and the new ones built in their place. They ran until they were safe in the community house. The door closed firmly behind them and the door to Tubbo’s office was locked. </p><p> </p><p>Hidden away from the violence, Ranboo let out a strange, choked sound. <em>What the fuck had just happened? </em>Tubbo glanced at him from where he was curled up in the office chair. The same one Schlatt had sat in only months before. When he did that, Ranboo could see how small he was. Not small in a height sense, though that was true. Tubbo looked <em>young. </em>He looked like a kid who had just lost their favourite toy, not the leader of a country who had just attempted to brutally murder a war criminal.</p><p> </p><p>“Tubbo I don't like what we did today.” Ranboo said “It felt wrong.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I did what needed to be done.” Tubbo didn't look up at him.  Ranboo couldn’t believe those words had come out of his friend’s mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Was it really needed?” Ranboo heard his voice tremble. Ranboo wasn’t sure where this courage was coming from. Maybe Tommy had rubbed off on him more than he had imagined throughout those long nights of writing, maybe he was finally growing a backbone. All he knew was that the inescapable anxiety building in his chest was telling him to run. He bit his lip. The burn of building tears grew on his eyes and he blinked them away. Tubbo let out a shaky sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“I have to be firm, Ranboo. I can’t show weakness. Not to Dream or to anyone else in L’Manberg.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did being firm stop you from exiling Tommy?” Ranboo watched as Tubbos face fell and he seemed to lose the professional, cold presence he had built for himself. They feared he would yell at them, scream at them to leave and to never come back. Instead they watched as tears built in his eyes and he slumped back in his chair.</p><p> </p><p>“They should know.” He mumbled, “I can’t keep it from them forever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Know what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy killed himself.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Dream told me what happened. I didn’t believe him either until I visited logstershire. Tommy’s gone. He’s gone because I wasn’t firm enough and I don’t know what to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s- he’s not dead Tubbo.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is. I’m sorry Ranboo,” Tubbo said harshly, continuing with a much softer tone. “I’m all that’s left.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tubbo-“ Ranboo paused. Tommy didn’t want to be found. He probably didn’t trust Tubbo after what he’d done to Technoblade. Tubbo bit his lip and looked away from Ranboo. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re not alone Tubbo, you aren’t. I’m here.” Ranboo said instead. Standing up and walking around the desk so he was standing in front of the much shorter man. </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo seemed to crumble. His face relaxed and he looked down at his hands. Ranboo watched as tears fell down his face. They kneeled down so they were eye level with him. He opened his arms in a gesture of a hug and Tubbo crashed into his arms. His head fell into the crook of their neck and they flinched as his tears burnt their skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Tall ass.” Tubbo sniffled. Ranboo chuckled, a soft <em>vwhoomp </em>escaping his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re not alone Tubbo. There are people here for you, no one will blame you for what happened.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Time heals All Wounds (Or So They Say)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy cleans himself up, and Techno braids his hair. Techno and Tommy bond! The Butcher Army takes Techno and Tommy feels lost. After Techno gets back, Tommy helps Techno heal after he uses a totem and we get an insight into Tommy's past. Tommy works to build a bond with Philza, desperately trying to cling to the connection they share with Wilbur.</p><p>CW</p><p>descriptions of removing sand from blister-like formations made because of the Totem techno uses during the Butcher Army events</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OK SO I DIDNT EXPECT TO TAKE A MONTH TO FINISH THIS HOLLLY SHIT</p><p>this is over 6.5K words. I am going to die. please please please know there will be new chapters a lot faster because I won't let myself write so much :,)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Snow fell gently across the dunes. Sunlight bounced off the white snow making it look like an unbroken sheen of glass. They crossed a snow-covered and mildly fucked up bridge. His feet made bumping sounds against the wood. The path to the bathhouse was worn in, making the path easy to stick to as he gazed down at his feet. The air was cold. Tommy held his cloak tighter around his body. His shirt was short sleeved, unfortunately. Why had Technoblade picked such a cold place to live? He could have chosen anywhere, with his skills and reputation. But he chose a frozen tundra. It probably meant something stupid and symbolic about how his heart had frozen over in the wake of the 16th, knowing Techno. Whatever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to cut your hair?” Techno asked. Tommy looked up, shaking his head. His hair had grown long during Exile, and he kind of liked it. He thought it’d look good tied back in a ponytail or braided down his back. He pointed to his hair, and made a raking motion across it with his fingers before pointing back to Techno. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can brush and style it for you, if you’d like,” Techno led him past a outcrop of rock. A small hut sat at the edge of a steaming pool. “Here we are, You can bathe in the bath house. Call me in when you’re done and I’ll help you with your hair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bath house was nothing remarkable. It wasn't the fancy bathrooms with running water that he’d had in L’manberg but it was better than exile. The room stood over a hole in the floor that led to the pool. It was large, likely made so that Phil could bathe his wings. The area smelled like pine and water, somehow. Like a lake, but less heavy. The water steamed and clouded his vision. Fuck, how long had it been since he’d had a hot bath? He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he sank into the water. It was hot, making his skin red and burning his cuts. He felt as if the water was burning away his anxiety as he let himself fall into relaxation. The pain was a pleasant tingle against his skin. Tommy looked around, seeing soap and a bucket to his left. He picked the bucket up, filling it with water and squinting his eyes shut as he poured it over his head. He repeated the motion with a bit of soap and scrubbing until the water no longer ran brown with mud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It felt good to be clean. He scrubbed the dirt from his skin until it was so raw it tingled and was a light pink. He wished he could wash every trace of Dream from his body. Get rid of the scars and wash it all away. Tommy didn't care if he got his voice back or not, he just wanted to be able to look at his hands and arms without seeing the scars left by shrapnel. He wanted to be able to look in a mirror and not see the red hot lines on his neck. He wanted to feel like himself again. He doubted he ever would. Even if he had a life to lose, scars stayed after revival. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands from the pool, drying himself off with his old shirt and putting one of Techno’s too-big shirts over his body. It was a faded tan, and the sleeves were surprisingly just long enough to fit his arms. His old pants had been ripped beyond repair on the ankle, and the knees had taken quite the beating. Techno had huffed at him when he suggested a patch. No ally of his would be seen in such messy clothing. Tommy thought it was silly, but tucked his shirt into the pair of skinny-jeans Philza had given him. Man, Wilbur had weird fashion sense growing up. There was no mirror in the room, but he knew he looked ridiculous. Hopefully he’d be able to bug them enough to bring him to Pogtopia so he could sort through his stash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy opened the door to the bathhouse, and peeked out. Techno was leaning against the rocky side of the outcrop, and looked up from his communicator when he heard the door creep open. Tommy smiled at him and waved him in. Techno sauntered over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell is it so tangled? When was the last time you brushed it?” Techno mumbled, frustrated. His hair fell in wet clumps over his back as Techno let it fall from his hand. Tommy flipped him off, Techno laughed. He ran his hooves down the surface of it before grabbing a wash basin and filling it with warm water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is gonna hurt, but you’ve been through worse.” Tommy nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping the fur on his cloak. Techno started at the ends of the hair, making sure he didn’t pull at Tommy’s scalp. The process was long, but before Tommy knew it his hair was gently braided back and the loose strands of hair tucked behind his ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you go. I’ll teach you how to braid later.” Techno patted his shoulder and stood up. He walked out of the bathhouse and into the snow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy stood quickly, a soft smile on his face. He followed behind Techno with a slight spring in his step. The cold seeped in through his new clothes and into his warm skin. His wet hair soaked through his cloak and into his shirt. Tommy sighed, pulling his cloak tighter around his chest and speeding up. His breath came out in a white cloud. The cabin quickly approached in the distance. The smoke from the chimney puffed into the bright sky, disappearing. Techno bumped his shoulder against Tommy’s. Tommy looked up, Techno smiled at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Race you to the cabin, you get a ten second head start. Go.” Techno said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy took half a second to process what Techno was saying before bolting. He could hear him counting down as his feet pounded into the terrain. His smile grew wider. The wind whipped past his face and his damp hair clung to his forehead. Tommy let out a wheezing laugh. There was no sound behind it, but Tommy couldn't bring himself to care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ten seconds is up Tommy!” Techno yelled behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy was gonna win this. He forced himself to run faster. The bones in his legs seemed to ache as he ran. Every fiber of his being protested as he pushed himself harder. If he could just make it to the bridge before Techno, he’d be forced to slow down. The bridge wasnt wide enough for both of them. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran faster, pushed himself harder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes when he heard his feet pounding on wood. Tommy’s smile grew wider. He cleared the bridge and stumbled up the hill. DIgging his fingers into the snow and pulling himself over the ridge, Tommy had the confidence to look behind him to see where Techno was. Techno was a mere feet behind him. Tommy let out a strange huffing sound and scrambled up the hill faster. His fingers ached and his healing wounds stung. If he could just crest the hill, he could book it to the side of the house and win. He reached the top of the hill and hurriedly stood up. Tommy took a breath and began to run again. His foot got caught in the snow, and he fell forward. He tumbled down the hill and landed at the foot of the hill with an ‘oof’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy! Are you alright?” Techno had stopped at the top of the hill, looking down concerned at Tommy. Was he okay? Tommy sucked in a breath, blood hammering in his ears. He stood on slightly shaking legs and looked up at Techno. Yeah. He was okay. He sent Techno a goofy smile. Tommy turned around, and bolted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Tommy!” Techno yelled, and Tommy could hear him coming down the hill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy laughed, tilting his head back and feeling the air rush past his face. It was noiseless but Tommy couldn't bring himself to care. He slowed as he reached the house, planting his hand to the wall. He took a few deep breaths, panting. Tommy looked up as he heard Techno reach the house as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re a gremlin. Good job though, I wasn’t expecting that.” Techno said, patting Tommy on the back. Tommy sent him a shit eating grin, and began to walk to the main house. He realized he wasnt cold anymore as they stumbled past the stable and to the porch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made it inside and the wave of heat made his cheeks flush and his fingers tingle. Techno quickly hung up his gear. He walked up the stairs to what Tommy guessed was his bedroom with no regard for Tommy. He stood there for a moment, fiddling with his hair. Tommy yawned, covering it with his hand. He hung up his cloak and took off his shoes. Tommy padded over to the couch and flopped down on the plush surface.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy basked in the warmth of the fire like an old cat. His hair now slightly damp on the ends and curling where it wasn’t tied back. He hadn’t felt relaxed and at home since, well, forever. Edward sat knitting in his chair. The clicking of his needles was a comforting background noise. Tommy yawned. He flung his feet to the side, standing up to stretch. He turned to look out the window, a smile creeping its way onto his face. Things were going to be okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A crow flew overhead, swooping down to the other side of the house. The landscape was a pure white with specks of brown trees and the light green of farmland. The ever-glowing lanterns melted the snow around them and revealed the dark ground underneath. The hardy wheat moved in the gentle breeze. Packed snow created a path that led to the other buildings on the property. It was peaceful out here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy let out a strange, breathy yelping sound as he was yanked away from the window. What the fuck what the fuck what the-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you to go find a place to hide, </span>
  <b>
    <em>Now!</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Techno yelled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy had not heard him this angry since the destruction of L’Manberg. He nodded quickly and scampered off. What was going on? His heart beat fast in his chest as he stared wide eyed at the wall. He should have known that peace never lasts, not for him. Tommy curled up into a ball under the stairs, his lanky form squished uncomfortably against the hard stone wall. What was happening? He heard the sounds of rustling and chains clinking as Techno threw on gear. A loud knock sounded throughout the house and Techno yanked open the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re under arrest Technoblade.” Was that Quackity? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For what? I’m literally not on your land anymore. I don’t think you can legally do anything,” Technoblade huffed. “I’m retired. Please leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping we could do this the easy way, guess not.” The sound of an axe swinging down and the clamoring of people moving shot through the air. Tommy curled deeper into himself. God, why did it have to be so loud. He pressed his forehead against the wall with a soft thud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lay there, listening to the sounds of a scuffle. Panic rising in him. He should stay hidden but he needs to know what’s going on. He needs to get up. He needs to see if Technoblade is okay. He crawled along the floor, scuttling past the open door to look wide eyed through the window. The fight was 1v4. Technoblade was outnumbered but very clearly not outmatched. He stood his ground against the four of them with ease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo stood away from the group, eyes wide and an ill-proportioned sword held in front of him in his large claws. He deflected every blow that came his way with anxious blocks. His ears were pinned back and his tail flicked back and forth in agitation. Tommy thought he looked like an angry cat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pressed his hand to the window, watching in awe how graceful Techno was when he fought. Techno was a red blur across stunning white snow. He danced with his sword in a wicked waltz that wasn’t halted by anything they threw at him. His blade nearly grazed his attackers again and again. He threw himself at Tubbo until he was desperately walking backwards in panic. Tommy knew then, why he was called the blood god. It wasn’t a self given title, it was one forged in the blood of his enemies. One spoken in hushed words before battle. Technoblade was incredible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Drop your armour and weapons Techno!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had taken his horse. Techno seemed to deflate. They had clearly struck a cord with him, was the horse really worth that much? No. Tommy knew where he was coming from. His heart panged when he thought of Henry. He hoped he was okay. Dream would keep him alive for leverage, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave him alone, he's innocent!” Technoblade pleaded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, drop your armour and weapons and nothing will happen.” Technoblade stood still, watching as Quackity moved his blade to the horse's neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dropped his weapons into the snow and turned his head slightly to glance at the open door. Tommy ducked down below the windowsill. Fuck. What if someone else saw him? Peeking up with cautious eyes, his eyes were drawn back to Ranboo. Ranboo’s ears were perked up and their freakishly large multi colored eyes stared through the window at him. God damn it. Ranboo tilted his head at him, glancing behind him with curious eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was behind him? He turned quickly, and would have screamed if he could. A creeper stared back at him. He stared at it wide eyed for a moment, waiting for the tell tale hissing of the beast. Or, was it a creeper? It’s menacing and hollowed eyes were pulled out, revealing piercing blue ones beneath. Philza’s eyes had no pupils, Tommy realized. He released the breath he’d been holding and turned back to the window. What the fuck man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I trust you.’ He mouthed to Ranboo, hoping his message had gotten through to his friend. Ranboo gave him a quick nod, leading Techno’s horse away. He didn’t look back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy watched as they walked away. He watched until they were no longer in sight. He let out a shaky sigh, pressing his forehead to his arms and slumping over the window sill. Techno </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be okay. He had to be. Technoblade never dies, right? He remembered how terrifying Techno was from a distance as the tyranical empourur of the Antartic empire. He hadn’t seen him then, at least not up close. But he’d seen the bags under Wilbur’s eyes as he came back from the trial. How he’d hugged Tommy and told him that it was going to be okay. The empire was no longer a threat. How could a terrifying man like that fall to Quackity?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to follow them. If we dont come back, take care of yourself.” Tommy blinked away tears that had built up on his eyelashes, watching as the Philza walked to the back door, disappearing into the cold in a flurry of green fabric. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What to do now? Ranboo was unavailable, clearly. Tommy was alone with his thoughts for the first time in months. Really alone, he wasn't concentrating on survival or avoiding Dream. Tommy sighed. He turned away from the window and retreated into the house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passed like he was in a dream. He ate some lunch, wrote in his book, and laid back on the couch staring at the ceiling. Truthfully there wasn’t much to do. It felt strangely invasive to be in someone else’s house without them. That didn’t stop the urge to go through Techno’s chests and steal his golden apples. To create a nest egg in his Enderchest </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed like a natural thing to do, at this point. The fear of Techno finding out had paralyzed him before this point. It wouldn't hurt if he took a few apples, maybe a fire res potion. Right? Techno wouldn't notice, his stocks were overflowing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, that was dumb. He definitely would. Technoblade was a very organized man, despite the disarray of his home. Tommy shouldn't risk his only safe place for a few apples. Maybe he could do it later, when Phil was over. He could say that Phil had taken some for the journey. That’d make sense, more than his measly excuse of having a hoard to fall back on if he needed to escape. Dream hadn’t liked it when he prepared for anything, he didn't think Techno would either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy rolled over on the couch, looking across the cluttered living room. He knew he wanted to leave here. It was too cold, too lonely. There wasn’t anything to do. He couldn't mindlessly cut down trees or build awkward stone towers. All there was to do was read. Plus, Tommy wanted to be near people again. Real, tangible people. People who wouldn’t turn against him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy gazed up at the ceiling. He could go, but where? Hypixel was worlds away, and while his time with Timedeo and the rest of the Skyblock people had been great he wanted to avoid that dynamic. He didn’t want to be a struggling middle class citizen who had to slay monsters time and time again in an endless cycle to survive. Other servers were out of the question too. They had more freedom, yes, but the fear of being treated like an outsider who needed to be taught a lesson didn’t appeal to him. The private servers were </span>
  <em>
    <span>too quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hardcore or survival. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ironically, his mind drifted to 2b2t. A place where if you walked in with no gear you were dead. A place full of greed and deception, but also creation and the spirit of teamwork.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t do it alone. Maybe Ranboo would join him? His heart ached at the thought of joining 2b2t again without Tubbo. None of their builds would be there anymore, that’s for sure. Their bases long ago plundered by eager new players or people out to cause some chaos. He still had his inventory there, and any stashes that still remained. If Technoblade didn’t come back in three days he would give the teleporter a spin. See what his old friends were up to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if his thoughts had summoned him, Tommy heard steps on the porch. Logically it was Techno. It probably was Techno. However thinking logically wouldn’t and didn’t stop the mounting fear building in his chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if it was Dream? What if someone had doubled back to see if Techno was really alone? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were disturbed when Techno wrenched the door open, breathing heavy. He leaned against the door frame, catching his breath. A pickaxe clattered to the floor and the sound made Tommy flinch. Techno looked up at him as he stumbled into the railing of the stairs. He clutched onto the railing as he tried to keep himself standing. Tomm sucked in a gulping breath. It caught in his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, get the first aid shit,” Techno rasped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy was frozen still for a second. Panic filled him as Techno stood panting in the entrance way. Tommy felt his hands begin to shake.  His arms felt like they were made of lead. He needed to move, he needed to help Techno. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adrenaline seemed to be his saviour. With a deep breath Tommy walked forward into the kitchen. He felt weightless as he fumbled with the cabinet door. Tommy rummaged through the cabinet, getting more and more frantic as he searched for Techno’s bulky first aid kit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy entered the living room as quick as he could. Techno was sprawled across the couch. A trail of equipment marked his path. His shirt was unbuttoned and Tommy saw raw golden lines tracing his skin. Gold flecks flew from his body and the smell of rotting flesh filled Tommy’s nose. Oh fuck. Had Techno used a Totem? Did he realize the consequences of using one? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If this was a case of using a Totem, it was one of the worst cases he’d seen. Golden lines of energy spread out from the killing wound after a Totem was used. If it spread across his entire body? Fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy sat down beside where Techno’s head was resting. He placed the first aid kit beside him. He frantically pulled out his book and fumbled with the pages. Tommy’s hands shook as he brought the pen to the page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘How did you die?’ He tried to keep his hands steady as he wrote but it seemed fruitless. The letters were janky and tall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Why does that matter?” Tommy pointed aggressively at the fucking paper. God, could Techno just listen to him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anvil. They dropped an anvil on my head.” Techno said. Tommy nodded, grabbing the knife and pushing Techno’s bangs from his face. The intricate lines of gold beneath his skin looked like cracks in an egg shell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered the first time he’d used a totem when him and Tubbo lived on 2b2t. The euphoric rush of regeneration followed by the crashing pain that filled him after the end crystal that had killed him punted him into a pillar. Totem regens left no scars, but draining the golden sand from the wounds without the proper knowledge could be fatal. Tommy doubted the two adults he was under the care of right now knew how. They were prideful men, never stooping to the level of the rest of the playerbase. After all, what use does revival have when you are simply godlike at pvp? No; the use of such barbaric and risky methods were above the high class of Hypixel and the private sectors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy knew how, thankfully. He wasn’t the best at it, Tubbo had died less times than he had back then. He was sure he could heal Techno though. It couldn’t be that bad, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, what‘s going on?” Techno sounded concerned. Tommy bit his tongue. He picked up his book, flipping it open and writing a message.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘We have to drain the sand, otherwise it will kill you. Is the gold anywhere else besides your head?’ Tommy turned the book to Techno.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, I had an anvil dropped on me. I don’t know how much of me is covered in those- those weird lines.” Technoblade said. Tommy bit his lip, running his hand through his messy bangs. Fuck. He wrote again in the book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I’ll show you how to remove the dust. It’s going to hurt, but I’m sure you’ve been through worse.’ Tommy flipped the book so Techno could read it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok.” Techno was apprehensive. Tommy understood. He was probably rattled beyond belief. Fuck, Tommy hadn’t even used aTotem and was still in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy took a thin knife from the kit, showing it to Techno and taking his left arm in his hand. Tommy took a deep breath, grounded himself, and began the incision. Techno drew in a sharp breath through his teeth as the knife pulled the loose skin open. Sand drained from the wound slowly at first, before speeding up and the trickling off. It was captivating in a way. Tommy looked up at Techno, who was watching him with a furrowed brow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know this?” He asked, Tommy went to the next vein. He shrugged, not knowing how to explain his past while performing minor surgery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy worked in silence for several minutes. The sound of the sand draining and the other ambient sounds in the room calmed him a little. Tommy scrunched his nose as the smell of rotting flesh grew stronger. Techno shifted as Tommy moved to the next arm. Tommy looked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can do the rest, can you clean up?” Tommy nodded, standing up slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy was in a haze, the world seemed so disconnected. He barely heard Technoblade’s footsteps as he walked upstairs. His heartbeat was thudding in his chest as he picked up the pieces of discarded armour. Tommy threw them down the ladder to deal with later and nearly stumbled to the kitchen. He needed a break. Tommy leaned against the counter, resting his head in his hand. He took a deep breath. In through his nose, and out through his mouth. God, he was tired. The adrenaline from the events of the last hour was wearing off and left anxiety and drooping eyes in its wake. He tried to keep them open. His eyes drooped shut, but he flung them open when he heard the sound of feet on the porch. Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Philza burst into the house, his feathers puffed out and his eyes wild. His jacket was barely draped over his shoulders. Tommy froze in place. He felt his breath suddenly leave his body. Philza looked angry. He clawed his way through the door and down the entrance hall like a spider. He clung to the walls in an effort to support his body, seeming to forget the cane clutched in his claws.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Techno?” Philza yelled. He looked around the house, his eyes wide and panicked like an owl. Tommy knew he shouldn't feel so scared. He knew the rising panic in his chest telling him to run was unwarranted. Philza had nearly lost his friend, the anger wasn't directed at him. He wasn't going to die. Philza wasn't like Dream. He had kind eyes and smile wrinkles. He gave Tommy tea before he went to sleep and had helped him heal his injuries with gentle hands. He was his friend. Tommy sank to the floor and gasped for air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wasn't Dream his friend too? If Philza could kill his own son, why wouldn't he be okay with killing Tommy? Tommy brought his knees to his chest and put his hands into his hair. He gripped his curls in his hands. Everything felt so quiet. He pulled his hair harder, feeling the dull ache. He looked up. He needed to know where Philza was. He couldn't leave himself vulnerable. He let out a soft wheezing sound.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tommy flinched as Philza’s eyes flicked to him. He brought his knees tighter to his chest and tucked his chin into his knees. He kept his eyes on him as he approached, careful to watch for any signs of aggression. Philza walked forward, much slower and calmer than before. He perched himself across from Tommy. Philza reached forward slowly. Tommy eyed his hand. He would never get used to the strange skin covering his hands and arms. Philza left his hand out and his eyes flicked to Tommy’s hand and back to his eyes. Did he want him to take his hand? Tommy reached forward with trembling hands and wrapped his hands around Philza’s extended claws. They were cool and rough, much unlike the fire burning beneath Tommy’s skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to hurt you, Tommy,” Philza said softly. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy shook his head. It wasn't okay. Someone was going to hurt him. What if someone from the butcher army had seen him and were going to tell Dream? What if Techno died and Philza decided it was his fault despite his best efforts?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I hug you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded. Philza walked towards him, almost strutting like a crow. Tommy would have found it hilarious if he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Philza wrapped his long arms around Tommy and he melted into the man’s arms. When was the last time he was given a hug? God, it had to be-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo. Tubbo was in the butcher’s army. Tubbo had betrayed him, he’d exiled him and let him be hurt by Dream for months. Had he cared after that last visit? Tommy didn't know. He had not visited since then. Him and Ranboo didn't talk about him much either. They much preferred to talk about their pets, which Tommy couldn't blame them for. The thought of his (ex?) best friend made his heart ache. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was brought to the present by the feeling of Philza’s claw rubbing his back soothingly. It was then he realized he’d been crying. Tommy let out a breathy sob. He clung to the front of Philza’s green tunic with trembling hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhhh, it's okay,” Philza gently moved his hand through Tommy’s hair. “You’re safe here, no one’s going to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nods, sinking further into Philza’s arms. He rests his chin on his shoulder. Tommy felt safe. He wondered if Wilbur had missed this. If it had been comforting for him to die in the comforting hands of Philza. He wondered if one day, He’d consider Philza the father he’d never had. Not filling the space Wilbur had left in his heart but helping the both of them move on. It didn't seem that bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One sec kiddo, let me go for a sec. This is starting to get really uncomfortable.” Tommy looks up, puzzled. Oh god. What had he done wrong this time? What had he messed up, would he have to give his stuff? Would it be thrown in a pit? Would he have to gently bandage shrapnel scars with crying eyes again? Would Philza hurt him? Philza turned, and Tommy felt his heart sink. His eyes widened and his terror left him as he stared at Philzas back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Philza’s wings were held together with thick netherite chains. They coiled and twisted, hugging into the feathers uncomfortably. They shone with the purple of enchanted gear. Philza brought a clawed hand to the chain and tugged. It came off quickly, falling to the ground with a sharp crash. A small flash of a disengaging charm filled the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream made it so that I can’t enter his SMP without them, they keep my wings pinned.” Philza explained, He stretched them open with a heavy sigh. Dream was a dick. Crippling a hybrid like that was at the least dumb and at most insidious. He had to have known the pain it would put Philza in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The black wings seemed to fill the room in darkness, the eye spots stared right into his soul. A few stray feathers fell from the huge wings, fluttering down to the ground. Philza brings his claws to them, fussing over them for a few moments. He pushed feathers back into place and plucked a few. He set them on the coffee table with gentle hands. A large patch of feathers was missing, black shoots peeking from pale skin. Tommy gently tapped Philzas shoulder, tilting his head and pointing to the bald spot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They haven't had the chance to heal properly. I took a lot of the blast when L’Manberg exploded.” Tommy cringed at the mention of L’manberg. He pushed the thoughts of a broken nation and a shattered people down. This was where he was now, he was here. Tommy didn't need to worry anymore. He brought his hand out, reaching for the wings. They were slightly wet from the snow outside, and felt like thin, sturdy fabric under the pads of his fingers. Philza’s wings twitched, but he let Tommy curiously poke at them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy perked up, standing from where he was kneeling to grab his notebook. Philza watched curiously as he scribbled something down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Your wings are cool.’ He showed the book to Phil, who chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks mate. I made them myself,” Philza joked, walking past Tommy to the living room. “Techno made it back, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy looked down at his book to write when he heard Technoblade’s monotone drawl from the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hallo Phil.” He said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Techno,” Philza seemed to lose any tension he was holding when he saw the man limping down the stairs. He leaned against the railing and breathed heavy. “How are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M’ okay, I’ve been worse. I still feel like I was hit by a truck though.” Techno rubbed his back as if he could still feel the </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy huffed, walking over to the bandaged man and slinging one arm over his shoulder. He shook his head and began to lead Techno back upstairs. As much as Tommy understood wanting to get right back on his feet and get shit done, he knew that Techno needed to rest. The effects of a totem wreaked the body much more than physically and the gold embedded in his skin could have disastrous effects on piglin hybrids that he didn’t know about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re more of a mother cat than Phil,” Techno grumbled, pushing himself back up the stairs. Tommy huffed at him, Techno let out a laughing wheeze. He could hear Philza laughing behind them as he pushed open the door to Techno’s room. He scowled, letting the pig-man go. He could get to bed by himself, ungrateful bastard. Tommy pushed aside his anger, somehow, and pulled out his book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘You need to rest, you aren’t going to recover unless you do.’ Tommy wrote, turning it to Techno.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy-” Tommy put a finger to Techno’s lips and continued writing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘No. I’ve seen what happens if you treat Totem injuries wrong. Do you really want chronic pain big man?’ Tommy wrote and turned it to him. Techno sighed, patting Tommy on the shoulder. He tensed up momentarily before realizing Techno wasn’t going to hurt him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Techno sighed. “I’ll go to bed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy smiled</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy,” Tommy looked back, his hand lingering on the door frame. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded. Making his way downstairs and to the kitchen. Philza stood in front of the stove, fiddling with the temperature meter. He looked up when Tommy approached.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m making soup, are you allergic to anything?” Philza asked. Tommy shook his head. Philza nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy sat down on a stool against the wall and watched as Philza cooked. He flitted around the kitchen, busying himself with gathering as many ingredients as he could. Soon, the kitchen was full of noise. Tommy watched as Philza cut the meat and potatoes up and threw them in the pot. He filled the pot with water and placed it on the burner. He hummed as he shook spice into the bin. The smell of spices and rich vegetables filled the room as the water heated up.  Philza placed the dirty dishes in the sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d think he’d have more than potatoes and steak,” Philza said with a soft chuckle as he stirred the soup. “Help me wash the dishes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded, picking up the scrub brush and a knife. The two of them washed and dried the dishes quietly. Tommy bit his lip. Was this how Wilbur felt? This feeling of safety and warmth? He didn't know. Tommy hadn’t experienced anyone like Philza. Philza had loved Wilbur, that was clear. They were a family, something Tommy had never really had. Besides Wilbur. Wilbur was the one connection the two of them had. Maybe Tommy could forge a connection through that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I have something I want to give you.’ Tommy wrote, placing his book beside Philza on the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Phil turned to Tommy, drying his hands on the hand towel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy pulled out his enderchest, sorting through the junk he had put on top of one of his most treasured possessions. The rough leather cover of Wilbur’s diary graced his fingertips. It was ordinary. It was unremarkable. It was his brothers. He picked it up, looking over it for a moment before handing it to Philza. Philza gave him a bewildered look, flipping the book open and staring down at the open page. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Wilbur Soot,’ the words were messy and scrawled on the page. ‘Please return if found.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy had read over those words countless times in exile. Had traced them with his fingers and read through the old pages of the book with an eagerness he had never had for books before. He had hidden it from Dream and kept it close. There was no doubt in his mind that Dream would use it as leverage. It was the only thing Wilbur had left him. He’d been happy to let Niki take his coat. He didn't like the smell of ash that clung to it. It reminded him of his brother's final moments. The book was different. The book held so much more of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur </span>
  </em>
  <span>than anything else of his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, is this Wilbur’s diary?” Philza said. Tommy nodded, turning away and trying to act indifferent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This means a lot to me, more than you know,” Philza said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded again. Philza smiled at him. His smile lines became more prominent and the crows feet on the sides of his eyes appeared. It was a kind smile. Philza was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind man. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His nature view of him had changed since when they first met. He gave Philza a tight lipped smile before turning and leaving the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy flopped down on the couch, his feet dangling over the arm. He flipped open his back-and-forth book. If Techno had made it back, Ranboo was probably going to be free to talk. Tommy hoped Techno hadn’t hurt him too bad. He bit his lip and wrote a quick greeting. To his relief, Ranboo wrote a response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Hello!’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Are you okay?’ Tommy wrote. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>’Yes,’ Ranboo wrote in return, going to write something but crossing the first letters out. ‘I didn’t get to see if Techno got away. Quackity lost a life though.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Serves him right. Bitch. Techno made it home.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Good. I’m sorry, there was nothing I could do to stop it. Philza’s fucking terrifying by the way.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘You’re telling me,’ Tommy wrote, ‘Big man never fucking blinks. It’s unnerving as fuck cause he never sleeps and you’ll wake up with him just hovering over you.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘What the fuck lmao’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy paused for a moment, chewing his lip. Would it be wrong to ask about Tubbo? No. Tubbo was his friend, or former friend. He’d just gone through with a plan to murder someone in cold blood with no trial though. Someone they had trusted once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘How’s Tubbo?’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Out of his depth. I don’t think he was in charge, to be honest. Quackity was the mastermind. Tubbo thinks you’re dead, Tommy. He’s really upset.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I’m not ready to tell him. I don’t know what to think, especially after today.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I know. Just stay safe Tommy, please? Everyone is antsy and the tension between the Tubbo administration and the people is worse by the day. I don’t know how much longer I want to stay. I don’t know if I can leave.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I will. See you soon Ranboo.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘See you soon Tommy.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy leaned back against the side of the armchair, placing the book down on the table. He rubbed his eyes. He should sleep. Today had felt like a lifetime. He would survive this. Tommy had crawled with Wilbur and Tubbo from a hell server, he had survived as a child among warriors. Tommy had founded business bay. He’d fought alongside adults as a 15 year old. He had lived through the rise and fall of a nation and the death of his brother. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was now. He may be weak now but when you’re at your lowest, where else to go but up? Tommy was born in chaos and fire, and god damn if he wasn't a phoenix. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Watch it Wither Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Technoblade shows Tommy the wither room. Ghostbur, Techno, and Tommy bond. Tommy relives the memory of Dream ripping out his vocal cords in a nightmare and seeks comfort in Techno.</p><p>HUGE CW FOR THIS CHAPTER!!<br/>Disassociation, unreality, and violence.<br/>SKIP THE ITALICS IF YOU DONT WANT TO READ IT.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me? Getting a chapter out in a reasonable amount of time? Whoa.</p><p>This is a more fluffy chapter, next chapter is Ranboo Perspective so it’ll hopefully be more plot heavy.  </p><p> </p><p>I’m also looking for a beta reader so HMU at Otter#3063 on discord if u wanna read chapters early ig.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy was outside. It was cold out. The mist had set on the roof a few hours ago. He had stood outside under the porch, leaning out to feel the cool morning air on his face. Tommy had watched the sunrise from the porch. It was a habit he'd picked up during exile and one he wanted to continue. It was freeing to watch the sunrise.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's quiet and cold, yet vibrant. Despite how bone-chilling it was, Tommy thought it was infinitely better than exile out here. The way the sunset over the mountains and rose over the ever-expanding snowy wastes was incredible. If he could catch it at a particular moment, the snow glittered in the falling sun. Tommy didn't know why it felt so special. Maybe it was because he was safe here. Perhaps it was because of the blue cloak Techno had handed him that he could wrap around him when he felt cold. For once, he had the luxury of choice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy liked the cloak. It wasn't as long as Techno's, but it was just as heavy and furry. It held the crest of a forgotten empire, one that had brought its server to its knees. The Antarctic empire's legacy held. Somehow, the familiarity was comforting. It reminded him of better times. When the stakes weren't high at all, and he could goof off with Timedeo and Tubbo in business bay. When Wilbur's need for a legacy was relatively harmless. When his family was still together. He buried his nose in the soft fur of his collar, wrapping it closer around him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snow fell gently from the sky. Tommy had watched the clouds roll in during the early morning. He didn't know if he'd be able to watch the sunset today. Though he couldn't be sure, the weather here changed in an instant. He stepped off the porch, his feet thudding on the thick wood. Tommy enjoyed the sensation of crunching snow under his boots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technoblade's property wasn't too large, but it was beautiful. An oasis in a desert of snow. Tommy walked in between the lanterns, feeling their heat. He came to the end of the trail, where Techno had cleared a place to build something. He looks at it, tilting his head. He walks a border around it, looking up to see how the view of the sunset would be like from here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you thinking of making your own place?" Techno says. Tommy jumps; why was Techno so sneaky holy shit. He takes a moment to recover as Techno chuckles. He shrugs, looking over the snow. Maybe a temporary shelter; he didn't know how long he was going to stay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad I found you. I have something to show you, Tommy." Techno says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy looks up from his feet. Techno gestures for him to follow. Techno walks across the beaten-down snow, his hooves making faint indents in it. His pace is fast, and Tommy runs to catch up. Where were they going? What hadn't he seen of the area? It wasn't the biggest, truth be told.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You see, there's something Tommy, I haven't even shown Philza. I didn't want him to see this side of me, 'cause the truth is, as hard as I try, I'm still violent." Techno says. His voice isn't as harsh as it usually is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno continues down the worn trail that surrounds the house. His hooves sink into the deeper patches, and Tommy wonders if his feet are cold. They pass the steadily growing wheat and the ever glowing lanterns. Past the shed and the chicken coop. He leads them away from the main area, in the opposite direction along the mountain than the bathhouse. Tommy trails behind Techno as they walk at a leisurely pace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's hard to ignore them," Techno says, trailing off. It's quiet but loud enough that Tommy can hear him. Who were they? Tommy pats Techno on the shoulder with a gloved hand, tilting his head. Techno looks up at him. He stops. They're near the edge of a cave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hear voices. So many voices and they say so many things," Technoblade says. He looks away from Tommy quickly and continues up the slope. "They call for violence, for blood. They dig into my brain and pollute my mind."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy quickened his pace to catch up with Technoblade again. He looked down at the pigman's face. He doesn't look up at him. They walk shoulder to shoulder, and Tommy hopes that his lack of a reaction is enough to reassure Techno that it's okay. They walk in silence for a while. Tommy watches the landscape, it's beautiful out there. He sees polar bears in the distance and rabbits hide in holes as they pass. There is a barrier of spruce trees in the distance. Tommy wants to explore the landscape; he itches to find all the secrets in the area.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you still want your disks?" Techno asks. Tommy wants to say yes, but feels his chest contort. Does he want them? After all these months, more than half a year now, did he need them? He wants them, desperately. Is that enough? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy chooses to shrug again, kicking a rock ahead of him as they continue along the mountain. As they pass a large outcrop, Tommy's mind goes to the compass in his enderchest. He hadn't looked at Tubbo's compass for months. Was he doing okay? No. He probably wasn't doing okay. He thought Tommy was dead. Tubbo was probably hurting really bad. Some vindictive part of him is okay with that, and Tommy bites his lip. He doesn't want to think like that. Instead, he pushes the thought of Tubbo aside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy is brought from his thoughts by Technoblade stopping. They're in front of a weirdly spaced section of the wall. He tilts his head at Techno, who smiles at him. He walks to the side of the wall and brushes aside a thin painted leather covering. A button sits there innocently. Tommy feels sick. Nothing good happens when buttons are involved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Press the button, Tommy," Techno says, the tone in his voice so different from how it was back at the house. Tommy feels dread pool in his stomach. His mind takes him to when Dream's tone started to change. But that had taken months, Techno couldn't be that annoyed by him yet. Tommy rubs his index finger with his thumb nervously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tommy, If I wanted to kill you, you would have died a long time ago. If it's gonna be that big of a deal I can press it." Techno said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy shakes his head, reaching out and pressing the button. He squints his eyes shut. The sound of mechanical pieces moving and shifting fills the air. Tommy opens his eyes and watches in awe as the gate lifts, moving stone down and revealing what laid behind. Techno stands in front of the gate as it opens, eyes wide as he looks upon his creation. He turns to face Tommy to see his reaction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room is stacked floor to ceiling with blackened skulls. Wither skulls. Tommy feels himself stop breathing momentarily. This room is dangerous. Chests line the walls, presumably full of gear and materials. How long had Techno worked for this? Ender, he thought the Antarctic empire was strong? That was pussy shit compared to this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Welcome home, Theseus!" Techno yells, his arms spread wide and his grin uncanny. He laughs, and Tommy knew he would be screaming if he had the voice too. What the fuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We're gonna do so much violence! They're so screwed!" Techno laughs louder. For the first time since he had begun to live with Technoblade, Tommy felt genuinely afraid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno enters the vault, running his hand along the wall of wither skulls. Tommy follows cautiously. The room isn't very big, not like the base Techno made before the destruction of L'manberg. But it held more power than any room Tommy had seen outside of 2b2t. It was awe-inspiring, it was incredible, it was bat shit fucking insane. Tommy opened a chest, revealing a kaleidoscope of potion colours. Instinctually, his hand goes to the fire res potion. He retracts his hand immediately. No. He shouldn't take from Techno in a place where he could kill him in seconds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ender, he needed to make sure he didn't steal from Techno. Dream had called him a dirty fucking animal when he had started his own little stash. Said he had stolen from him. Really though, did Dream actually miss those 3 apples? He didn't know. In the end, Technoblade has a base. He needs to make a base too. What if Techno was taken again? He'd be fucked if they decided to make sure he had nothing to return to. And if Dream came? He needed to protect himself. He taps Techno on the shoulder, gesturing to the container and then pointing to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why do you need stuff right now? I can just give you stuff if you need it." Technoblade said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy sighed. He gestured to the room then put up two fingers. He pointed to himself and then pointed outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What," Technoblade said. "Oh, you want to make your own secret base?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'd rather keep my base stocked, but I can help you gather some resources if you'd like?" Techno asked, summoning a handful of spectral arrows from his inventory and placing them in a chest. Tommy gave Technoblade a thumbs up this time, just to spice it up a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno finishes up whatever he's doing, Tommy's pretty sure it's inventory of what he has. He has a small list that he's been checking off. Tommy sits on top of a chest and watches, careful not to touch the skulls behind him. The room smells like dirt and decay, an unpreventable reality of wither skulls. Tommy scrunches his nose, he hopes that Techno can finish up quickly so they can leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A while passed like that, and Tommy laid himself over a double chest. He was just about done counting the number of stone bricks in the ceiling when Technoblade walks over and taps him on the shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Time to go Tommy." He says, and Tommy nearly cries in relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two exit the room, and Techno presses the button. The base disappears behind a thick stone wall. Techno covers up the button. Tommy begins to walk down the hill, not waiting for Techno. He catches up quickly and they walk down the slope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's quiet out there. The only audible sounds being the roaring of the wind against the rocks. The cold seems to sink past his thick cloak and grab onto his bones. He can only imagine how cold it must be in the open tundra. Had Techno dragged trees from the tree line in the distance to build his house? Holy shit that must have been cold. Somehow, this side of the mountain was colder than the other. His trek to Techno's base had been warmer than the walk was today. His face stung.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you even know how to set up a base Tommy?" Techno says, bumping his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno is teasing, but Tommy sends him a glare. Ender, he hates when people underestimate him. He can't call him a bitch, it doesn't have the same effect when written as it does when spoken. So he resolves to show Techno he is good at creating stashes. He may not be the best builder, but he sure as hell can hide his shit. Tommy found it easier to squirrel stuff away than to use it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they get closer to the house, Tommy notices a figure sat on the porch. He stops, watching as Techno continues unbothered. Tommy huffs and continues as well. As he gets closer, he realizes it's Ghostbur sitting on the steps, blue goop dripping from his eyes. He looks up. His milky eyes widening and an even bigger smile on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello, Tommy!!" Ghostbur glides across the snow towards him. "I am so glad to see you! Everyone thinks you're dead but I knew you weren't because I couldn't find your ghost." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy waves, hand going to his book. He pulls out his pencil and scribbles a message for Ghostbur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'Hey big man, please don't tell anyone. I'm glad to see you too.' He turns it to face Ghostbur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why not?" Ghostbur asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'I just don't want to be found right now.' Tommy writes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh! I understand. It's okay to want to be alone." Ghostbur says, nodding like it's an insight that not everyone had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They begin to walk towards the house, or, Tommy walks to the house. Ghostbur glides behind him, his feet hovering above the ground as he mimics Tommy's actions. Tommy finds it unnerving. Ghostbur is so much like Wilbur, but he's not. He never will be. Ghostbur can't remember how Wilbur met Tommy. He doesn't remember Wilbur telling Tommy that they were brothers, that they would be family no matter what. It's disheartening. Tommy sits down on the porch, and Ghosbur sits down beside him. He smiles at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How've you been Tommy! It's been so long since we've talked." Ghostbur says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'I've been okay. I'm still dealing with the voice thing.' Tommy writes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wish I could help," Ghostbur says, his voice changing a little. He sounds so much like Wilbur. It hurts. "Have some blue,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy takes the lapis lazuli in his hands, feeling the mineral melt from his body heat and stain his hands. He gives Ghostbur a weak smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"See? It helps!" Ghostbur says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'Thanks, Ghostbur.' Tommy writes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Ghostbur," Technoblade says as he passes them into the house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello, Technoblade!" Ghostbur says happily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy feels his smile grow. He looks down at his book. As much as he misses Wilbur, he likes Ghostbur. Technoblade does too. What happens to him if they bring back Wilbur? His stomach sinks. Will he have to give up a friend to bring his brother back? He palms the blue. He doesn't want to give Ghostbur up. Tommy bites his lip, chewing on it a bit nervously as Ghostbur hums a tune.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Speaking of your voice," Ghostbur says after a moment. "Why don't you try other ways of communicating?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'What do you mean?' Tommy wrote, showing it to Ghostbur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Like- like hand signals or something. Writing everything down all the time seems very inconvenient and not at all fun." Ghostbur said. Tommy nodded, that seemed reasonable. How difficult would that be?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ghostbur's right Tommy," Technoblade made his way down the stairs to stand next to the two of them. "I've seen versions used on Hypixel. When announcements happened there would be translators on the side. We don't have to use that version of sign language, but it'd be the most universal if you choose to leave the server." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno sat down beside them, his hair was down now and he had changed into casual clothing. Tommy shuffled closer to Ghostbur to allow Techno some extra space. Techno muttered a thank you. Ghostbur's smile grew. Tommy picked at his nails, trying to hide his smile. The three of them sat in silence for a moment before Technoblade spoke up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can start to teach both of you tomorrow. It'll be like we have a language only we know since I don't think anyone else on the server knows sign language." He says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'd like that," Ghostbur said quietly. Tommy couldn't help but agree. He could draw little pictures for Ranboo so he could learn too. Maybe he could teach Philza, if the old man was allowed visitors. It'd be their own little thing, something Dream could never ever touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three of them sat there, watching the sunset in the distance. Often Tommy didn't like how short the days were so far north, but today it felt like it came just on time. Tommy tapped on their shoulders and pointed to the way the sun danced on the ice-covered snow. The brilliant colours fade with the sun. They sit there, Techno whispering the names of constellations as they appear in the night sky. Soon, it became too cold to justify being outside. Tommy yawned, barely covering it with his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three headed in, thoroughly content with the night. Tommy hangs his cloak and takes off his boots slowly, his fingers stiff from the cold. His face is flushed as he enters the warm living room. Edward is gone, his knitting placed gently in the basket. Tommy is amazed to look over and see a red and white scarf draped over the arm of the couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Goodnight Tommy," Technoblade said, his hand lingering on Tommy's shoulder for a moment. "Have a nice sleep."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy smiled at Techno, watching him retreat upstairs. He looks away, exhaustion setting in. Ender, today had been long. He yawns as he walks to the couch, placing down his book. He quickly brushes his teeth and cleans his face. Tommy returns to the couch and falls back on it. He pulls the blankets up to his chin. He closes his eyes, succumbing to sleep as soon as they shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He wakes up in the fading grassy fields of Logstershire. It's not yet cold enough to be winter but he can feel the cold through his shirt. He'd long since given up trying to get any sort of valuable gear. All he needs is his little carrot farm and Henry. His feet are raw from walking barefoot on the dirt ground on the trails all day. It doesn't matter, he has some seeds to plant today. Some new carrots to grow! He is excited. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He pads across the grass, carrying a bucket full of water. He hums softly under his breath. The seeds are already there, hidden underneath the last stone on his little rock path. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy blinks and suddenly it's like the world has warped around him. He's no longer with the carrots and the bucket. Instead, he's outside. Outside with Dream in front of him holding a knife. He sucks in a breath. The world seems underwater and blurry. As if someone put the echo filter over the entire world.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"God, you never shut up do you," Dream walks closer to him, bouncing his knife in his hand. He speaks in a drawl, and Tommy can hear how pissed he is. Dream never got angry in a way Tommy could understand. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Neither do you, dickhead. What are you going to do about it?" Tommy says. He keeps focusing on his little carrot patch, choosing not to look at or think about Dream. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm going to make you shut up." Dream says. His voice sounds like it's underwater but his tone is clear as day. So similar to months ago, what seems like years ago now. When they were friends. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"What is that supposed to mean?" Tommy says, backing up step by step from where Dream stood. Suddenly he's on the ground, fighting against his green-clad captor. It feels like someone took a reel of the film that was reality and snipped it and Tommy doesn't have time to react.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Get the fuck off me!" Tommy yells, he can feel the knife digging into his arm as he tries to escape the much stronger man's grasp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Tubbo! Tubbo!" Tommy yells, clawing at Dream's arm. His throat is raw from yelling. Dream pushes his hand down, hitting him across the face with the back of the knife.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Wilbur! Wilby," He's begging now, his voice quieter. Blood runs down from his forehead. He's starting to get dizzy. The trees seem to dance in his vision.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Dream says through gritted teeth. Tommy only fights back harder, kicking and yelling as loud as he can. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It happens in an instant, though Tommy knows it wasn't. Time seems to pass strange as he stares up into the lifeless dot eyes on the mask. It doesn't feel real, it can't be real. Blinks take years and breaths take nanoseconds. There is a lull before the pain. A sort of tranquility as he looks at Dream. It happens so quickly it may as well have been always there and he is just noticing now. Like a new mug in the pantry, was it a new thing or a constant that had been there for ages? Tommy had no way of knowing. The pain is sharp and if he could describe it as a colour, it'd be red. Red like blood, red like the border of Chirp, red like the cape of a traitor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There is a moment of silence as Tommy gags. The pain is overwhelming and he can barely breathe. Dream holds something red in his hands. What is that? His vision is so blurred by the pain he can't tell. Is this how he dies? Not in a battle, not blown up by an end crystal, not surrounded by loved ones, but by the hands of a former friend. Tommy looks up at the sky instead of his captor, if even for a moment of control over his own condition. It's a lovely shade of green. He struggles for a moment before his eyes fall shut as he hears the sound of a splash potion breaking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if someone snapped him awake, Tommy opened his eyes. The room was dark. It was late, or early. He can't tell. Everything felt muted. He rolls over, feeling unwarranted anxiety build in his chest. It wasn't real. It's not real. Tommy sits up, putting his head in his hands. The phantom ache of the wound on his neck reminding him that he wasn't normal. He would never be normal again. Tommy takes a shaky breath. He can't be alone right now. He shouldn't be alone right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes everything in him to move his feet forward, it feels like it takes ten times the effort to stand. Ten more for every step he makes. In his dazed state, he made his way to Techno's door. He placed his hand to the door and knocked. He hears shuffling behind the door and Techno opens the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you want," Technoblade says. His voice is full of sleep and Tommy feels like he's intruding. It's a moment before Techno realizes Tommy can't respond. Tommy feels a pang of sadness in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh. Right. Come in, I've got a pen and paper somewhere you can use." Technoblade says. He moves to the side, and Tommy scurries in like he's got monsters on his tail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn't take him long to find the pencil and the paper. He picks it up and flips it over, techno had written page numbers or something on one side. He takes a moment to consider what to write.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'I don't want to be alone right now.' He writes. Creeping embarrassment fills him as he turns it to Techno.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why don't you want to be alone?" His tone isn't accusatory, nor is it rude. But Tommy feels his chest contort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'Bad dream.' He crosses out dream. 'Bad memory, I think. It was about the.'</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy takes a moment to scratch out words and eventually lets out a frustrated sigh. He slams the paper down and aggressively points to his neck. He makes a cutting motion before putting his hand in a ball over the injury and miming a pulling-out motion. The action is the only way he can communicate it. The only way he can communicate how it happened and it makes him so frustrated. So angry. Tears well up in his eyes and Technoblade backs away. Ender, he was a fuck up, wasn't he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy turned from Techno, trying to contain his anxiety. He took a deep breath, unconsciously flicking his thumb in and out of his fingers. He walked across the room and sat in the chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers grip onto the cape and he pulls it over his body. It hides his skin and bones body, it makes him look bigger. He likes how it feels. The fur was remarkably soft and the top part of the coat was heavy. It felt like a weighted blanket. Tommy could feel the anxiety leaving him as he lay under it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tommy I- I have no idea how to handle this," Techno says, sitting down in the chair across from his. He looks so small without the layers upon layers of clothing he normally wore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How can I help you?" Tommy shakes his head aggressively. He takes his feet off the ground and brings them to his chest. "Do you need help, Tommy?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy lets out a strained wheeze as he grips onto Techno's cape. He curls deeper into the armchair across from Techno. He doesn't need help, he just needs to be here, wrapped in the warm fur and thick velvet of Techno's cape. He feels safe when he's here. The cape helps too. It's red. Red like the border of Chirp, red like blood, red like how the house feels. It feels like home, for the first time in a long, long time. Tommy shuffles a little again. Technoblade takes a deep breath. He leans forward onto his knees and takes off his glasses, his book long discarded. He looks across the room at Tommy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have you ever heard the story of a man named Theseus?" He asks. Tommy nods, his mind going to the destruction of L'manberg and Techno's speech.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I didn't tell you the whole story, and I think I kinda have to now. Theseus was a brave warrior before he was exiled. Just like you. He died in exile, you didn't. Kinda gives you a one-up on him, huh?" Techno says, a little humor in his voice. Tommy hid his smile in the cape. Techno smiled at the floor for a moment, before looking back up at Tommy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, it all started with the king of a place called Athens having a son with his wife."</span>
</p><p> </p>
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